Demon
by Star7
Summary: [yaoi] [senru] [on going] [fantasy-feudal Japan] Sendoh Akira is a demon slayer. The course of his life changes when he meets an elite slayer who is not quite what he seems. Can Sendoh help Rukawa overcome his most frightening adversary - the all-powerful red headed demon Sakuragi Hanamichi? (M for violence, dark themes, and sexual content)
1. Prologue

**NOTES:**

This fic (up to chapter 6) has been completed re-edited.

I was really mad at myself for having screwed it all up so much the first time. Thank you for your patience and sorry to have made some of you re-read the edited earlier chapters over again.

Remind me never to try to write extended stories in the first person ever again. Thank you xD

 **IMPORTANT WARNINGS :**

 **M rated.** That means **violence, death, more violence, rape, torture, and violence.** If you've read my other fics, you probably have some idea where I'm going with this.

 **Sakuragi is a bad guy.** He is also shit-hot sexy goddamn devilish and handsome, but he is a bad guy. **And I mean it.** **He is BAD.** If you have a problem with that, best to avoid reading this one this time ;)

* * *

 **Demon**

 **Prologue**

This story begins long ago, in an ancient village which no longer stands. At the time, the houses were all rough-hewn from local cedar, and the roads no more than dirt tracks.

If we follow one of the muddy paths through the late-night darkness, through the central market square - now deserted - out past the smith and past a small shrine, to an alley running between two barns used to store rice and great cypress barrels of sake, we will encounter the moment this story began.

Here there is the sound of drunken laughter, eerie in the otherwise stillness of the sleepy night, as though one has stepped through a curtain.

Ghastly shadows flicker on the wall as a group of men kick and spit at a figure who writhes helplessly on the ground. A few are holding burning brands up high, by which we see, and by which the shadows dance.

We can't see the boy's face but we hear his weak groans. As for those around him, there is something odd about them that you cannot quite put your finger on. They appear large, heavy, and lumbering, and yet their movements are too fast for you to comfortably follow with your eyes. Watching them is making you feel slightly nauseous, there's a bad taste in your mouth. These things you feel, but you cannot explain.

The boy is different to them. For him you feel a rush of warmth - but that too is beyond your understanding.

We'll stop now because we realise with a chill that we weren't the only ones to make the silent journey through the deserted village this night. Just behind us looms a being dark and evil. Your feelings of nausea redouble. We think for a moment that he followed us, but of course that is impossible - we are merely remembering.

He is dressed head to foot in a long, black cloak so for now we see nothing of him except that he is tall.

The others seem to sense his arrival. He raises his hands and they part like waves, giving him a path to the hapless boy.

"Ah," he says softly, and smiles. "Perfect."

The boy shudders involuntarily, and so do we.

Something unusual happens now. Before your eyes the tall man seems to distort and ripple as though he were merely a reflection in a pond that has now been disturbed. You blink and rub your eyes but the distortion will not cease.

At the same time you feel a fierce heat on your exposed cheeks and the backs of your hands. If you close your eyes, it will feel as though you are standing too close to a bonfire.

Open your eyes again now, for an incomparable sight awaits you.

The heat lingers on but the distortion has stopped, and the man - if you can possibly conceive of calling him such a thing - has revealed his true form.

Doubtless you have heard of demons before. Mankind has had names, images, and stories about them since times immemorial. I can't begin to guess the images that come to mind when I ask you to imagine what a demon looks like. All I can do is tell you what you think you are seeing this night.

The demon looks like a man in all things except his wings. His face, now released from the shadows that had shrouded it, is young and handsome. His hair is a shock of fiery red. He is tall - much taller than an average man - although the exact height is hard to guess. He stands upright and proud - you assume he is some kind of leader - and his long black cloak swirls around his feet. There seems little doubt that, had he wished to, he could hold your fascination like a moth. His charismatic face leaves you certain of his charm.

But those wings!

Huge, dark and hideous. Perhaps twenty meters or more. You can see bloated and bulbous looking veins meshed into the thin membrane. In places there is a purple and greenish hue which puts you in mind of pestilence and plague.

It is an odd sensation, I know, to be at once so enthralled and yet repulsed to the very bass of your heartbeat.

You'll come to realise now that they are all demons. All of them standing around the boy on the ground. None of them show wings like the tall man does, but you are no longer fooled by your sense of sight. The essence in you that makes you mortal knew long before your reason did that these creatures are abhorrent. But don't be disheartened. This is your first encounter, and you have already learnt this valuable lesson.

The boy on the ground is struggling now, trying to get up. His cheeks are streaked with tears and dirt. He seems no more than eighteen years young, his face smooth, boyish, and naive.

He had been afraid to die. Now he fears surviving may be worse.

The tall demon approaches him and stops just short, black boots inches from the boy's face. One hand idly fingers something that hangs from a chain around his neck. Keys, you notice. Five small silver keys.

He squats down now as if to examine the boy's face more closely. He smiles as if he is happy with what he sees.

"Take him back," the demon instructs softly, "and tie him to the ring." He rises up to his full height again - tall, elegant, and horrifying.

"Please..." the boy speaks, finally. You can hear the terror in his voice. "What are you-"

The demon silences him with a kick to the face with one of his heavy black boots. All pretense of pleasantness has vanished from his face.

The demons begin to drag the boy away. He struggles feebly, but it is clear he is exhausted. He has been hunted, you realise, perhaps for miles.

We won't follow them, though. Not now. It wouldn't be right to witness this.

But, you ask me now, how could this night a thousand years in the past, possibly be the beginning of my story? You and I - we weren't even born. What could these ancient flickers of distant history have to do with us?

So I'll tell you: this was when the three apprentices first joined the fight. Joined in the war that has ravaged across the worlds since time unknown, encompassing heaven, hell, and the mortal men who stand in-between like pebbles thrown about between wave and shore.

-to be continued


	2. Chapter 1

**Anita:** I'm definitely prepared to scrap as much as as necessary to sort the mess out. I hope I got the characters right this time, though. Quite anxious not to have to re-write... it... again... /weak laugh.

Anyway... rewriting this whole thing entirely. So... here goes nothing!

 **Demon  
** **Chapter One**

Anzai's tavern was busier than usual. Not surprising. It was a dark and unsettling kind of evening. There was a change in the air - even the laymen could sense it. You didn't have to be a slayer to know that this was not a night to venture out alone.

The lively sounds of life and voices seeped through the cracks in the door frame like a beacon. It sounded as if near everyone in the town had congregated there, sheltering in the warmth and light they created for themselves by their presence and their voices and the eager pulsing nature of their small human lives. They gathered, and laughed, and in doing so barricading the dark night firmly outside the doors.

It was towards that promise of cheery firelight and human conversation that Sendoh Akira was staggering. He was limping. His right foot dragged heavy against the road. He pressed one hand against the silent houses he passed in support. He fixed his eyes on the tavern sign, to the exclusion of everything else, forcing himself to concentrate on it with every facet of his consciousness. It creaked on its hinges as he struggled his way towards it.

Home.

 _Home._

Finally he reached the door, all his senses tingling. Warm air curled welcoming from around the doorframe. Precious and familiar. He lifted his hand, pushed it open, and staggered in a little unsteady. Immediately he felt as though he'd been sucked through an invisible membrane of warmth that left the chill night far behind. A warm relief washed over him as he glanced around the familiar, noisy interior.

Safe.

Almost at once, a voice called out his name. He looked up to see Aida Hikoichi waving to him from the further end of the room, the tavern's familiar apron tied around his waist, and his sleeves hitched up with cord.

"Sendoh-san!"

Behind him, the looming figure of Ikegami and the relieved face of Koshino could also be seen.

Sendoh attempted to disguise the worst of his limp as he made his way to the closest empty booth, feasting his eyes on the familiar wooden panels and the honey-brown table top, worn and polished to a shine. Such commonplace things he'd seen a thousand times had taken on new fascination. As he'd lost consciousness in that alley, he'd thought he'd never see them again.

He kicked off his sandals and dropped with a wince onto one of the worn red cushions. His sword he removed carefully from his waist and placed on the wood of the tabletop. The tall panels around the booth offered some protection from prying eyes, so he took a precious moment to rest his head back against them and close his tired eyes, feeling the pain and the exhaustion settle on his shoulders and weigh down on his muscles, as if the world wanted to drag him to the floor.

But the others arrived almost immediately.

"Sendoh-san!" Aida was as noisy as ever, "are you hurt?"

"Just a scratch," Sendoh immediately gave him a reassuring smile. "Nothing to worry about."

"Aida, go and get bandages and clean water," Koshino instructed, wiping his hands nervously on his apron. His expression was drawn with concern as he considered Sendoh's tired face.

He and Ikegami slid into the booth opposite Sendoh as Aida hurried off.

Sendoh managed a weak smile. "What? No sake?"

Koshino glared at him. "This is no time for that!"

"Maa..." Sendoh feigned disappointment, "but Hiro-kun... my leg is really, really aching..."

Below the table, out of sight, he gripped the wound bracingly. Dried blood was already caked down his leg and sticky in his clothes. It was deep, he knew, but he didn't want to worry them.

"Ikegami says he saw ten moving together!" Koshino declared in a hushed voice, leaning forward with his elbows on the table.

Sendoh's eyes moved over to the large swordsman in surprise. "Ten?" he echoed. He tried to force some measure of confidence into his voice, but wasn't sure he succeeded.

Ikegami nodded seriously, his powerful frame leaning forward intently. "Just north of here. Not far. Around the temple at Daitoku."

"Ten..." Sendoh repeated to himself.

"And you're being as reckless as ever!" Koshino complained. "Going out on your own like this!"

Sendoh bit down on his cheek and didn't reply. His eyes flickered down to the blood that was already oozing around his fingers. He didn't like to admit that Koshino might be right but...

Ikegami was observing Sendoh carefully. "How many?" he asked abruptly.

Sendoh looked up. Seeing Ikegami's intense expression, he arranged his face into a smile and shrugged. "Only five."

"Five!" Aida had returned with a tray holding a pitcher of clean water, cloths, and a roll of fresh bandages. "Five demons?"

"Shhh!" Koshino hissed at him, his eyes darting around the other tavern booths and patrons. "How many times do I have to tell you to keep your voice down?"

"Sorry," Aida replied, chastened. "But five, really? Only Sendoh-san could kill five demons!" His eyes were shining with excitement.

"Well, I didn't actually..." Sendoh began to correct him, but they weren't listening to him anymore. He suppressed a sigh.

He was a little reluctant to confess that he'd woken up not thirty minutes ago in the back of an alley, half-covered in debris, wounded but alive, and surrounded by the cold and fading bodies of five slaughtered demons. He could recall killing two before the others brought him down. He must have lost consciousness. Someone had killed the rest, but he was almost completely sure it hadn't been him.

Thinking about it made him feel thirsty. He wondered if there was any sake left in his room. He thought wistfully of the attic space he shared with Ikegami above the tavern.

Aida dipped the cloth in the warm water and came around to help Sendoh clean up his wounded leg. His face paled when he saw the amount of blood. "Oh, Sendoh-san..." he began in dismay.

Sendoh cut him off with a shake of his head. "It's not as bad as it looks. Just bandage it tightly Hikoichi, and it'll be fine."

Looking unconvinced, Aida set to work peeling the bloody clothes away from the wound. It was long and deep and bleeding profusely. A nasty diagonal slash down his thigh. Sendoh suppress a wince and turned his attention back to Ikegami and Koshino's conversation.

"You two," Koshino was saying, "really must stick together now. It's too dangerous to go out alone." He sent Sendoh an accusing look.

Sendoh gave him a helpless shrug and a sheepish smile.

"But, why...?" Ikegami muttered unhappily. "Why are there suddenly so many of them? I've never seen more than three at a time."

Koshino touched his chin thoughtfully. "I don't know. Maybe Anzai knows something...?"

"Yeah -" Ikegami looked up, heartened by this idea. "Yeah, maybe I'll go tomorrow and ask him-"

Sendoh frowned to himself. No doubt Anzai would have words for him about his wounded leg too. Still, he wouldn't mind visiting. These days the old man spent most of his time busy with his books, and rarely came to the tavern anymore.

"You'll both go!" Koshino interrupted Ikegami crossly, creasing his brows and raising one scolding finger. "Together!"

Ikegami looked a little embarrassed. "I don't want to slow Sendoh down..." he muttered.

Sendoh sent him a reassuring smile. "I'll go with you." He indicated his leg with one hand, "But it'll be you looking after me this time, I think."

Ikegami looked somewhat appeased.

"Good," Koshino nodded in approval. "Tomorrow, we can-"

But he never finished the sentence.

All at once, Ikegami lurched forward towards the table with a gasp, as if he would be sick. In the same instance, Sendoh sat bolt upright.

A wave of nausea had washed over him,, powerful and intense, but it was gone almost as soon as it came. He snapped his head right and left, looking for the cause. Everything seemed normal. The chattering continued all around. Aida was still cleaning his wound. Koshino was staring at Ikegami's strange motion in confusion. Nobody else seemed to have noticed anything.

He snatched up his sword and stood up urgently, Aida falling back from his seat in surprise. Ikegami rose as well, one large hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword. Sendoh met his eyes across the table and saw the same frightened thought mirrored there.

 _Not here._

 _Surely, not here._

Koshino was looking up at them in disbelief, not because he could sense it like they could, but because he knew enough to read the signs in their faces. He had turned deathly pale. "Guys...?" he pleaded weakly, as if it might be a joke.

Then, all around them, the tavern imploded.

Sendoh threw his arm over his face as a blinding bright light flooded the place, accompanied by a rumble like thunder that passed right through his bones. His eyelids appeared red like blood behind his closed eyes. Screams and shouts erupted from the patrons all around. Totally blinded, his eyes still screwed shut, he groped towards where the table had been - nothing.

"Hikoichi!" he shouted, swinging his hand around towards where he thought Aida had just been. "Ikegami? Hiroaki!"

From the right a terrified scream momentarily rose above the din, but was silenced with a noise like tearing fabric. Sendoh felt his panic mount.

The light became fractionally less intense, and he squinted out at the blinding white world.

The feeling of sickness had become almost unbearable. Sendoh's senses were swimming. The nausea gathered, intensified, took hold of him so absolutely that his ears began to ring, and his skin broke out in a cold clammy sweat.

His vision was still blurred, but bits and pieces of the tavern around him were slowly reappearing.

Ahead of him, in the very centre of the tavern space, he saw a hole, expanding, like a window opening in the air. At its centre it was black as pitch, yet it was from this strange apparition that the brilliant light burst forth. Within it, he thought could just about make out dark shapes moving, coalescing, becoming larger and more distinct.

A feeling of festering horror began to crawl under his skin. He knew what they were.

Even as he stared, a figure shaped like a man gradually formed within the point of dark, and emerged into the fluorescence. Two wings, demonic, huge and terrible, materialised behind him as he came, blocking out a portion of the blinding light so he appeared as a terrible silhouette. Tall, hooded, horrifying. Just looking at him caused a fierce stab of pain to lance through Sendoh's gut.

A howling wind followed the huge demon as if it had been released from a seal, blasting suddenly out of the gateway and sending the screens between the tavern booths tumbling backwards in a maelstrom of chaos. Sendoh struggled to keep his feet under him as the tempest threatened to knock him backwards.

And then, swarming over the threshold like flies, demons came. Dozens of them. More than Sendoh had ever seen. Each of them fast and deadly. Black, inky eyes, dull skin, nails grown long like talons, and sharp yellowed teeth under foul lips. They overwhelmed the tavern, moving through at rapid speed, ready to kill everything in their path.

In moments they reached the place where Sendoh was standing. He drew his sword with a sharp, crisp ring.

All around him, the world seemed to contract as he became focused on the task in front of him. He willed his already exhausted muscles into motion, tensing and preparing, gathering up every last scrap of strength that still remained to him. The wind and the noise fading from his awareness until there was nothing but his blade and his enemies and the sick feeling in his gut. He wouldn't go down without a fight.

A momentary hush of calm. He narrowed his eyes, breathed, waited.

Then he moved.

Innocence sang a cold song as she passed through the air like a ray of light, cleaving the chaos in two, catching for an instant the reflection of the gate along her blade before passing through the neck of the closet demon with a rush - so sharp that Sendoh barely felt any resistance at all. Black blood spewed from the severed neck, throwing a speckled pattern across the nearest screen.

Breath in. Breath out.

Sendoh brought his left hand across to caress her gently; the old, soft leather willing under his palm, teasing her back around in a flashing arc of light, catching a second demon across the stomach and spilling its guts across the polished floor.

Innocence danced momentarily with a third, singing a note as clear as diamonds as she touched the demon's short, curved blade. Just a brief second. The energy of the two blades met and shimmered. Sleepy and dreamlike. A tiny caress.

Then the demon staggered backwards with the force, wings moving clumsily.

Sendoh slid his foot forward, shifting his weight to a balanced lunge, ready to bring Innocence around and take the staggering demon through the throat. Fast, elegant, deadly, perfect.

But then, to his own great surprise, his wounded leg collapsed beneath him.

His arm flailed, Innocence's graceful path descending into a meaningless chaos of spirals and weaves. He struck his chin hard on the corner of the table he still couldn't even see, and tasted blood in his mouth. He groaned.

Across the table, Ikegami swam into view, face down in a pool of his own blood, his neck half severed, his great sword only half pulled from its sheath, his eyes like glass. Sendoh stared at him in disbelief. He turned his head to the side. A few feet away, Koshino's body lay trampled on the floor. His head had cracked open like an egg, the smear of his blood trailing away across the floor, stamped into the wood by running demonic feet.

Sendoh's breath caught in his throat.

"No..."

He fought to rise, but the demon standing over him was already swinging its sword down in a two-handed heave. It was all Sendoh could do to throw himself sideways and avoid the blow. He crashed through a screen, rolling helplessly.

He couldn't die here.

His throat seemed to close up in quick, panicked fear. He sucked in one last breath and tried to focus. Anything. _Anything_. If he could get his feet under him he might… if he could bring up his sword… if only his mind would work to his advantage rather than betray him in panic then he might… there might…

But though he struggled, he couldn't regain his feet in time. He could hear the sword coming towards him, slicing the air. He felt utterly helpless before the seeming inevitable. Still, he refused to close his eyes.

Somewhere above him, from the corner of his eye, he saw a quick slice of thin blue light flash through the air. He rolled without grace or elegance over the shattered screen and somehow lurched clumsily to his feet, his right leg trembling furiously under his weight. He fixed his eyes on his enemy, but all he saw was a thick blast of hot black blood erupt from the demon's severed neck.

He stared blankly for a moment as the decapitated creature folded to the wooden floor like a puppet with cut strings, it's wings collapsing like a smashed kite.

Sendoh took a second astonished breath.

 _How-?_

He realised someone else was standing there. Someone had come. Someone had saved him.

His eyes first saw his sword. It was faintly blue, brilliant in the light of the gate. The demon blood dripped from it's tip in black, bulbous droplets. Holding the hilt was a pale, long-fingered hand, a delicate wrist under the wide sleeve of a plain moss-green kimono, closed by an off-yellow sash at his waist.

Sendoh's confused eyes roamed up to his face.

He was young, and handsome, with sharp eyes that were dark and fierce.

Sendoh only stood and stared, panting to catch his breath.

He seemed vaguely familiar. Sendoh didn't know his name, or anything about him, except that he'd seen him somewhere before, he was almost sure. Probably right here, in this bar.

The newcomer let out an irritated tsk, reached across, and without warning grabbed a fistful of Sendoh's kimono and practically hauled him out of the booth, sword and all.

"We have to go," he said.

"Who-?" Sendoh began in confusion.

But at that moment something beyond the boy's shoulder caught his eye.

A small figure, a mere shadow in the brilliant light, was stumbling towards the light of the gate as if drunk.

"Hikoichi!" Sendoh realised in horror.

He didn't stop to think. He shoved the newcomer aside with his palm and forced his legs to run, ignoring the screaming pain in his thigh, his sandals slipping on his own blood.

"Hey, wait!" the second boy called out, but Sendoh wasn't listening. The boy swore ferociously under his breath, turning his feet to follow Sendoh towards the gate.

As Sendoh ran towards the all encompassing gate at the centre of the tavern, the world around him became stranger and stranger. The air thickened until it was syrupy and solid and hard to breathe. Black shadows radiated out from his fingertips as he struggled through the light. And no matter how fast he tried to run, Aida only drew further and further away. The gate of light, and the great demon standing at it's core, seemed to be receding from him. Sendoh tried to call out his name, but found he had no breath to do so.

 _Don't...! Don't leave me alone!_

Sendoh stretched out his fingertips, desperate to touch the cloth of Aida's familiar apron, the last precious piece of the life he had known. But he was too far, too far...

 _Not again._

A grip like iron locked around his wrist, and he spun around to see the other boy trying to hold him back.

"No, don't... go near him!" the boy growled at him, "Don't-"

His words were cut short as he winced with sudden pain. Sendoh felt it too, like a knife in his chest. He looked anxiously towards Aida and the gate, only to see the huge hooded demon turn its head in their direction. It lifted one hand in a casual motion, sending the light swirling and distorting like dust, the great claws of its hand like knives.

It flicked one lazy finger.

In front of his eyes, Sendoh saw Aida's form disintegrate into ribbons of ash.

"Hikoichi!" he yelled, struggling onwards, dragging his reluctant companion forward a few more paces. The wind whipped the black ribbons of ash past them, out into the tavern, until there was nothing.

Sendoh swallowed hard on the rock of anger that had formed in his throat. His eyes fixed on the gigantic demon in the gate and rage-induced madness seemed to come down upon him.

 _Kill it,_ all his senses were screaming at him. _Kill it!_

Black tendrils suddenly burst from the gate and came rushing towards them, twisting and snaking through the wind, pitch black as though they were made of darkness itself.

Sendoh let out a ferocious snarl, ready to fight them off, but the tendrils didn't touch him. Instead, they wound tight around the arm of his companion like weeds, trying to drag him towards the gate.

"Shit," the boy hissed, his eyes widening, dropping Sendoh's wrist and struggling with the black coils. He leaned back with all his strength, trying to pull free. His feet slid forward a few inches.

Instinctively, Sendoh grabbed hold of his clothes, trying to hold him back, but the gate only began to drag both of them in together.

"No, no, no," the boy gasped in frustration as he fought to remove the black vines from his arm. "I won't, I won't-!"

Desperate, Sendoh reached for his sword. She shone bright like the sun in the light of the gate. He brought her down with all his strength, but she had merely to touch the blackness and it dissolved into nothing. The boy tumbled backwards to the ground in a sprawl of limbs. Sendoh hooked his arm and dragged him to his feet.

"Come on!" He began to pull him away.

The boy staggered weakly. Welts like burns had appeared on his arm where the darkness had touched him. His sleeve was in tatters and smouldering in places.

"Come on!" Sendoh repeated, more forcefully, hauling on his arm and dragging him away.

It was much easier to flee from the light than it had been to go towards it. The tavern gradually reappeared around them, a landscape of smashed tables and shattered screens. There were flames climbing the walls, the old cedar timber crackling with heat. Bodies too. Red blood shone in crystal pools on tables, across the floor, down the walls.

Nothing moved except for the ghostly flickering of the flames and the smoke that collected at the ceiling. The demons had left nothing alive.

Sendoh didn't stop for anything until they'd smashed their way out of the door and were back out on the deserted midnight street.

He collapsed to his hands and knees, feeling nothing but his profound exhaustion. The stone pavement was damp under his hands, the chill air dewy and heavy with fog. Above, the sky was inky black, moonless, and empty of stars. He struggled to catch his breath, listening for any sounds of pursuit, but it seemed nothing had followed them.

The boy was standing, looking furious as he clutched his wounded arm defensively across his chest, his breath coming in short gasps.

Sendoh looked up at the devastated tavern. The brilliant light had faded to nothing, and only the flickering of flames behind the windows gave any indication of what had just happened there.

He panted softly, his breath rising as white vapour in the air.

His home. His friends. His whole world was burning to the ground while he knelt on the floor and stared wide eyed. His mind seemed to be blocking the pain, because for the moment, he couldn't feel anything at all.

"What - what _was_ that?" he gasped instead.

"The gate," the boy muttered, "got too close," he squeezed his wounded arm angrily. "Shit," he hissed, vehemently.

He sent Sendoh an accusing, withering look, and Sendoh dropped his eyes guiltily, recalling that it was probably his fault that the boy was hurt. It seemed a poor way to have repaid him for saving his life.

Sendoh frowned unhappily. His fingers found their way back to his sword hilt, as if touching it might bring him some comfort. It was an exquisite thing, this sword named Innocence. He recalled the way it had severed the darkness, and squeezed the old leather gratefully. Perfectly balanced, ferociously sharp, elegant far beyond the skill of any mortal smith. An angel's sword - that's what Anzai had told him.

He turned back to the injured boy.

"We should get away from here."

He thought briefly of his three friends, and wondered why he wasn't crying. Wasn't screaming. Wasn't pounding his fists on the ground. There was nothing he could do for them now, he reasoned. But this boy, at least, was still alive. He ought to get him away from here, in case more demons appeared. Neither of them were in any condition to fight.

"We can go to..." he began, but trailed off. He didn't have anywhere to go any more.

"I know a place..." the boy said, a little reluctantly, fixing his unfriendly eyes on Sendoh. "You can come with me. I guess."

Sendoh found himself smiling. His lips curving automatically, deflectively, even though his stomach was twisting with grief. "All right. I guess we should... stick together for now."

He remembered Koshino's words, warning them to stay together, and felt cold.

The boy had already turned as if to lead the way.

"Hey, uhm - what's your name?"

"Kaede," the boy answered flatly, without looking back. "Rukawa Kaede."

"I'm Sendoh Akira."

"Hn."

"Nice to meet you."

The boy gave no reply.

Sendoh sighed and took one last look at the tavern, the place that had been his home for so many years. The friends who had made his wretched existence tolerable. He took his sword from his waist and held it loosely in his hand. Then he bowed deeply from the waist.

 _Hiroaki... Ikegami…_ _Aida_...

 _With this blade I will avenge you._

He couldn't help but recall the last time he'd made the same motion and the same promise, on the same sword. Coldness seeped into his chest. An awful feeling of deja vu stole over him, like he'd done this before.

He straightened slowly.

He became aware of eyes on him, and turned to see Rukawa Kaede watching him. He had an odd expression on his face.

"What?" Sendoh asked him.

But he only shook his head, this eyes disappearing behind the fall of his fringe.

"Nothing. Let's go."

So Sendoh turned away, and followed Rukawa Kaede out into the night.

-tbc

* * *

Updated versions: 1, 2, 3 (Dec 2018)

Extended authors notes are on my LJ.

As I was reading this aloud to myself, I started to wonder whether people would be interested in an audio version. Just a nonsense thought I had. If you like, I can record it and stick it on youtube. That might be kinda cool. I've been thinking of getting into audiobook recording recently (for kids, though). It'll probably be awful but... let me know if you're interested xD


	3. Chapter 2

Rewritten for the third time... sigh. Can you believe it?

 **Demon**

 **Chapter 2 (version 3)**

They walked quickly and in silence.

Sendoh gripped his sword tightly, his eyes moving constantly left and right, but his senses discerned nothing in the inky dark. His left leg trembled whenever he put weight on it. Ahead of him, his strange companion paced rapidly, without looking back.

They eventually left the close-packed buildings of the city behind and walked along the dark ridges between silent rice paddies. Night insects sang as they passed. The occasional lonely firefly drifted over the still water, but it was the end of the season, and their sad flickering lights received no answer.

Rukawa's home turned out to be a large old farm house, looming dark in the night, sat beside a number of hollow rice paddies.

The farm was not working, and the paddies were drained, their depths coated with a rich, dark sludge, the borders choked weeds. Discarded farm tools and wooden barrels were rotting where they stood.

Much like the farm, the house itself was sad and falling into ruin. Plants and weeds were attempting to reclaim it. Some of the walls were more moss than timber.

A sign above the main gate hung at an odd angle from one remaining nail. It showed a single character in elegant script. _翼_ _"yoku"._

"Do you really live here?" Sendoh wondered aloud, peering up at the imposing building.

"Sometimes," Rukawa replied shortly.

They passed through the gate and entered the spacious yard, ringed by overgrown trees and littered with leaves. A veranda encircled the house, lifted off the earth floor by stilts, and cluttered with wooden crates and casks all falling into dilapidation.

They went silently through the main doors inside the house itself, and Sendoh saw that the corners were full of dust and threatened by damp. Parts of the tatami mats were worn right through, or else flaking apart at the edges. Above, a few old bird nests were tucked away in the rafters. But the walls and the gates were solid enough, and the thatched roof would keep out most of the rain.

Sendoh breathed in the musty smell of damp and mildew. The house was dark, but Rukawa moved inwards and with his left hand stoked the coals that had gone cold under the central irori stove, setting them alight and filling the place with a low, flickering light. The creeping neglect made it feel abandoned, but the fire chased away some of the dampness.

It felt sad and lonely. Still, Sendoh felt strangely comfortable in that dusty space. "It's... wonderful," he said quietly.

Rukawa glanced curiously at him, but said nothing.

He showed Sendoh to a disused room. It was empty apart from a small square lantern unlit in a corner, and a cupboard that housed a single futon. Sendoh dragged the futon out. It smelt damp, but it was soft, and it would do nicer than the floor.

"I'll get something for your leg," Rukawa said, standing a little awkwardly in the doorway, watching Sendoh move around the room. He returned shortly with water, bandages, and a clean yutaka balanced on a tray.

Then Rukawa slid the screen door quietly shut behind him with a brief "good night", and the room became dark.

Sendoh sighed, and moved forwards slowly to sit on the floor next to the tray, the smile dropping tiredly from his face. He stared at it for a long time. He could imagine Aida fussing, imagine Koshino's irritated voice and anxious care, imagine Ikegami's strong, quiet silhouette.

Unable to bring himself to deal with his wound, he only changed his clothes, throwing his own bloodied yutaka into one corner, and then lay on the futon, staring up into the blackness of the rafters, and tried not to think.

Tried not to think about that black demonic shape in the middle of the light. Tried not to remember the trails of ash spiralling past him in the wind. Tried not to admit that Rukawa's right arm was obviously more damaged than the strange boy was currently letting on.

He eventually fell into a disturbed and restless sleep.

* * *

The next day Sendoh awoke groggy and thoroughly disoriented, totally unused to sleeping on something as comfortable as a futon. He forced himself out of bed, not permitting himself even a moment to recall the massacre of the day before.

His leg was aching. He snatched up the bandages and his soiled clothes, squashing the memory of his friends ferociously to the back of his mind, thrust his sword through his obi, and headed outside. The house was totally quiet.

He went to the front, out the main gate, to where he'd seen a stream bubbling the night before. He spent a long time washing the blood out of his clothes. Then he took off his sword and robe and left them on the bank, climbing naked into the frigid water, his teeth chattering. The discomfort helped to carry some of the memories away, washed around rocks and spinning like leaves on the water's surface. Koshino's voice, Aida's smile, fetched up amongst the weeds. Ikegami's steady warmth dissolving around the lily pads.

When he could bear the chill no longer, and his mind felt a little clearer, he climbed out and shook himself dry. Pulling on his robe again he sat down and wound the bandage around his leg as tightly as he could bear, until he could walk on it with almost total surety.

He gathered up his sopping wet yutaka, and made his way back towards the house.

At once he became aware of the regular sound of air whistling over a blade. Following the noise curiously to the rear veranda, he looked out upon the late morning farm. The weak autumn sun was high already, painting the landscape in old, tired greens, wrinkled browns, and gloomy wintry greys.

A few yards away, a man he did not recognise was taking a break from practising with his sword, standing in the middle of a large square of grass, catching his breath. He'd hitched up his sleeves to reveal forearms that were strong and sinewy and muscled, the backs of his hands browned by the now-spent summer sun. He looked, Sendoh thought with reluctant admiration, like a warrior. He had black hair and broad shoulders. And he had a sword. A sword - Sendoh noticed with a strange chill - that resembled his.

Sendoh must have made some sort of sound because the man turned sharply around to look at him.

For a moment he looked utterly blank, as if he couldn't imagine who Sendoh was. His eyes took in the sight of him, roaming from his face, to his clothes, his sword, and back to his face. Slowly an irritated realisation stole over him. There was no warmth in his expression at all.

"What the fuck are _you_ doing here?"

Slowly, Sendoh placed his bundle of wet clothes on a nearby crate. "I was looking for Kaede," he said cautiously.

"Huh," the man gave a slow, predatory smile. "That's a nice sword you've got," he observed, his eyes flickering down to Innocence at Sendoh's hip before lifting again to his face, "do you know how to use it?"

Sendoh slowly grinned back. "Well enough."

The man took hold of the hilt of his sword with his left hand, though it was on his left hip, and dragged it free with a long, shimmering ring. He had to extend his arm as far as it would go to do so.

"Come on, then."

Sendoh blinked. "You're left-handed?"

"Is that a problem?"

Sendoh shrugged. "Not at all."

"Then hurry up." The man's smile was all arrogance.

Sendoh jumped down from the veranda and was running straight at him in a moment.

He drew Innocence so fast and straight that she didn't even sing before she met that arrogant man's blade as he brought it down in a furious swipe. The weight of the blow nearly knocked all the air out of Sendoh, but he deflected it soundly. He took one rapid side-step and attacked, driving Innocence towards his side. But the man parried him easily, seemingly without effort, an infuriating smirk playing about his lips. Sendoh sent Innocence dancing through the air with all the speed and accuracy he could muter, but every stroke was comfortably blocked, the noise of their exchange filling the air with the rapid ringing of steel.

Sendoh moved his feet, pushing forward, but with a quick thrust and sudden snap of his wrist, the man wrenched Innocence right out of his hand, and sent her spinning off to hit the ground a couple of feet away.

Surprised for a moment, Sendoh could only stare at him.

"Mitsui Hisashi," the man said by way of introduction, wiping the sweat from his brow with one sleeve, grinning in amusement.

"Sendoh Akira," Sendoh replied, and then immediately, "Where did you get that sword?"

Mitsui swung his sword up and rested it in a casual jaunt across one shoulder. Sendoh's eyes ran irresistibly along her length, taking in the impossible sharpness of her edge, and the perfect clarity of her steel.

He had never in his life seen a sword that was the honest equal of his own, but there it was, right before his eyes.

"This is Vengeance," Mitsui said.

It wasn't identical to Innocence, but it was similar enough that if Innocence really were an angel's sword, then Vengeance certainly was one too.

Sendoh pursed his lips momentarily, and then turned silently and went to collect his sword from the floor. He set his feet carefully, lowering his weight, and met Mitsui's eyes.

"Let's go again," he said.

Mitsui smiled.

He was unnaturally fast as he flew at Sendoh, his feet covering the distance between them in moments, Vengeance flashing dangerously in the morning sun. Sendoh cursed under his breath as he hurriedly lifted Innocence to block. It was all Sendoh could do to keep his balance as he was forced to retreat rapidly over the rough grass under the pressure of Mitsui's vicious swings. Each blow felt bone-shatteringly heavy, despite the speed with which he threw them out. Vengeance seemed to be laughing as she clashed unrelenting against Innocence, blow after blow, each faster and heavier than the last, swirling the air like a tornado.

It ended the same way as the first exchange, with Innocence flying through the air and sticking in the ground and Mitsui's infuriating amusement.

Sendoh's face remained blank as he turned and again took up his sword, set his feet, and met Mitsui's eyes.

"Again."

This time Mitsui gave a roll of his eyes.

"Ridiculous," he taunted, before he attacked again. Vengeance moved faster than sight, so that Sendoh could barely manage to deflect the blow. He watched the motion of Mitsui's shoulders in order to anticipate the direction of his attack. The slightest twist in his waist. The occasional flicker of his eyes. The slightest lapse in concentration would be costly. But despite all his experience, skill, and hard-honed instincts, he was forced backwards once again across the rough ground, just as before, and he was left with the sinking feeling that every successful parry was more by luck than skill.

He could only wait, hold out, spinning Innocence about as efficiently as he could, watching and...

...suddenly, Sendoh saw the gap - small as it was. The thinnest moment in time just as Vengeance changed direction - and he thrust Innocence forward as fast as he could, snapping his wrist hard. Before Mitsui could react, Vengeance was flung from his grip. Sendoh flicked Innocence around in a broad arc, coming to a dead halt just an inch away from Mitsui's undefended neck.

Mitsui's eyes went wide.

Sendoh gave a thin smile. "Again?" he asked.

Mitsui's eye twitched. "Huh. Maybe you're a bit better than I thought."

A snort of amusement came from behind them, and they both whirled around.

Rukawa Kaede was leaning against one of the supports that held the roof above the veranda, looking nonchalant. Sendoh had no way of knowing how long he'd been watching.

Grumbling to himself, Mitsui went to pick up Vengeance, and thrust her crossly into her sheath.

Sendoh couldn't resist repeating; "So, where'd you get her? _Vengeance_ , I mean?"

Mitsui looked over at him.

"This is the sword of the first apprentice," he answered. "Splendid, isn't it?"

"The who?"

Mitsui stared at him suspiciously. "The first apprentice. Don't you know about the three apprentices?"

Sendoh shook his head, and Mitsui scowled as if he was an idiot. "Three blades forged for three apprentices," he said, gesturing, as if this were something Sendoh ought to suddenly remember. "The immortal slayers. The greatest ever known. Three swords, Vengeance, Mercy, and-" he paused, his hand spiraling vaguely through the air. "-huh. I guess I forgot the last one." He looked momentarily amused.

"Immortal slayers..?" Sendoh repeated slowly, frowning "...you mean like... like angels?"

" _Angels_?" Mitsui repeated incredulously, and a look of dark amusement spread over his face. "Don't be stupid. Angels can't slay. It's not in their nature to kill." He ran a hand under his nose and gave a cough, then spat the phlegm onto the ground. "You really don't know anything, do you?"

"I..."

"Huh."

Mitsui turned away and stomped his way over to the house. Sendoh followed.

"Well?" Mitsui demanded, stepping up onto the veranda and staring at Rukawa. "Didn't expect to see you here. You and your little friend..." he trailed off when he saw the serious expression on Rukawa's face. "What? What did you fuck up this time?"

"The gate opened," Rukawa told him quietly.

"And?"

"And..." Rukawa hesitated, eventually dropping his gaze, "...my arm is..."

"Fucking hell," Mitsui reached out to seize Rukawa's right arm and pushed the sleeve up to reveal the damage. It looked worse, Sendoh felt, in the daylight. Parts had turned black, and angry welts and burns formed a rough spiral where the darkness had touched him.

Mitsui's face took on a look of stupefied disbelief. "How can you be this fucking stupid?" he growled crossly. "Why the fuck would you get so close to the gate?"

"Oh..." Sendoh spoke up quickly. "...actually it was... it was my fault."

Mitsui ignored him, speaking to Rukawa instead. "I'll put a salve on this but..." he curled his lip slightly, "...who knows if it will heal?" His shook his head in disgust. "So fucking stupid."

"There was no choice," Rukawa muttered finally, his left hand balling into a fist, his tone cold and flat.

"Of course there was a fucking choice. What's the point of any of this if you're going to end up unable to fight? Next time just bloody leave him to Sakuragi Hanamichi."

Something strange happened then. Sendoh felt two icy hands around his throat, squeezing hard so that for a second he couldn't breathe. His lungs turned heavy, like someone was standing on his chest. He lifted his hands to his neck in a futile bid to relieve the pressure. All over his body, it felt as if every nerve and every cell had reacted to the sound of that name; the _sense_ flooded through him in a lurching panic. But the next moment, it had passed, leaving only fluttering adrenaline in it's wake.

 _Sakuragi Hanamichi?_

Rukawa glared furiously at Mitsui.

Mitsui huffed irritably, looking marginally contrite as if he'd gone further than he meant to. Then he turned sharply and stalked into the house without a word.

"Who's-" Sendoh began. But Rukawa's angry stare only rounded on him instead.

"Don't talk about him," he interrupted. "He'll paralyze you - consume you - If you're not careful." He gestured towards his chest and Sendoh knew he was referring to the sense.

"The demon in the gate," Sendoh realised.

Rukawa pursed his lips slightly, something ugly and broken moving deep within his eyes, and looked away.

Something cold and unpleasant curled around Sendoh's stomach like an icy fist. The sense always warned him when demons were nearby, but it had never reacted to the mere sound of a name before.

 _Sakuragi Hanamichi._

The weight of power behind a name like that was chilling. Sendoh recalled for a second the shape of Aida as he melted away before his eyes, and a hot anger rose through his chest. He swallowed it down before it could get the better of him.

Sendoh wanted to ask more, but the dark look on Rukawa's face silenced him.

He fixed his face into a look of concern instead, and sought to change the subject. "Look, I'm sorry-" he began, gesturing towards Rukawa's arm, "-about-"

"Don't." Rukawa cut him off sharply. "Hisashi is right. I'm the one who screwed up."

"But-"

Rukawa tsked angrily, his brows creasing together in annoyance. Sendoh sighed.

Mitsui stepped back out of the house with a small glass vial containing some sort of salve, and a roll of bandages. He gestured for Rukawa to sit, and took his arm carefully, examining it from every angle.

"Does it hurt?"

"No. I can't feel anything. It's just numb."

"Shit."

Sendoh frowned. It sounded worrying. He turned his gaze down to watch Mitsui's motions as he began to apply the salve and bandage it over to prevent it from rubbing away. Rukawa did not look up at either of them, apparently sunk in his own dark thoughts.

"Can I help you with anything?" Sendoh asked finally.

For a moment, Mitsui didn't look as if he would respond. Then he gestured Sendoh closer. "This will need to be reapplied in a couple of days. You might as well see how to do it."

Sendoh moved forwards immediately to join them.

"You'd better rest this," Mitsui told Rukawa firmly. "Don't fucking use it. I'll sling it, so that you don't go flapping it around and smacking it on walls or whatever."

Rukawa lifted his eyes finally. "But, the gate is..."

"Fuck the gate!" Mitsui tried to scowl, but the concern in his eyes was genuine, "You need to be careful. Who knows when..." he trailed off and glared angrily at the bandages he was unwinding.

An awkward silence descended between the two of them.

"I can look out for you, until it heals." Sendoh said finally. They both turned towards him simultaneously, and he shrugged. "You can hunt with me. I'll... be your sword, if you like."

Rukawa's expression gave away absolutely nothing. Mitsui opened his mouth as if he wanted to make a comment, but then thought better of it.

"It would be nice to have some company," Sendoh continued, feeling his lips lift into a deflecting smile, his shoulders moving in a casual and easy shrug that gave away nothing of his fluttering heartbeat. "If you don't mind, of course."

There was a long pause. Longer, Sendoh felt, than necessary. Rukawa was staring at him as if he'd said something incredibly strange. But then his expression changed and he replied, very slowly, "Well... maybe."

Sendoh let out his breath and felt his smile spread further.

Mitsui rolled his eyes, but Sendoh didn't mind. Rukawa's eyes were fixed with some meaning that Sendoh couldn't grasp. There was something. Some connection. Some... draw between the two of them. He felt it strongly in that moment, like a lurch in his soul.

Rukawa seemed to realise it too, because he frowned and quickly looked away, breaking the spell.

"Done," Mitsui announced, sitting back and folding his arms across his chest.

Rukawa looked down at his bandaged arm. "Thank you," he said quietly after a moment.

"Huh," Mitsui climbed to his feet and stretched. "If you two have any sense you'll just hide here for a few days but..." his gaze moved between the two of them, "...well. Just be careful." He bent to pick up his sword, and turned away from the house. "I'll go and get whatever information there is from Kiminobu. I'll be back in a few days, probably. Replace that bandage, and don't do anything fucking stupid."

Rukawa gave a small shrug.

Mitsui turned towards Sendoh. "And you be careful too, little brother," he warned him, his expression slightly mocking. He indicated Innocence with the tip of his scabbard. "You're hunting with pros, now. I hope you're worth that sword you carry."

He lifted a hand in a casual wave and left without another word, his shoulders rounded, heading out across the farmland and idly kicking at clumps of weeds and grass now and again.

Rukawa watched him go through narrowed eyes.

"You don't have to take what he says too seriously," he said after a moment.

Sendoh scratched his head. "Oh, er-"

Rukawa looked irritated. "I'm not as incompetent as he thinks I am."

"I never said-"

"Don't you look down on me, either."

"I wouldn't dare."

Rukawa glowered crossly, and silence fell.

"Say, er - can _you_ beat Mitsui?" Sendoh asked after a moment, as casually as he could manage.

Rukawa seemed to chew on his words for a moment before admitting in a tight voice, "...no."

"Oh." Sendoh smiled a little. "Do you want to stay here, like Mitsui said?"

Rukawa stared at him.

"Of course not," he said coldly. "You said you'd be my sword, didn't you?"

Sendoh only grinned in reply, a sense of satisfaction moving through him. Despite the dangers, and despite Mitsui's words, hunting with Rukawa was what he wanted to do. He wanted to know more - about the boy, about the darkness in his eyes.

Sendoh tilted his head back to observe the grey clouds moving through the wintry sky. Despite the strangeness of everything, he felt comfortable. Here, at _Yoku_. In Rukawa's presence. Surrounded by the farm and the tired old house.

There would be time enough to mourn later. For his friends. But for now...

His thoughts drifted back to the demon in the gate. _Sakuragi Hanamichi_. His smile faded. He recalled the broken look in Rukawa's eyes at the sound of that name, and he felt his stomach turn.

His eyes grew a little colder.

For now... he had a vow of revenge to fulfill.

-tbc

I think I've got it right this time. I really, really hope so.

(version 3) Changes in this chapter:

\- Dialled back on the atmosphere in the first scene. Decided I wanted to carry a bit more of the momentum and urgency from chapter 1, rather than switching so abruptly to a moonlight serenade lol. Cut a couple of lines that I really love though. Hope I can put them back somewhere else.

\- Switched the main scenes around AGAIN. I really liked the way Mitsui and Sendoh met in the middle of a fight in version 1, and so decided to bring it back. Cos it was cool.

\- Dialled back on the doki doki. It was too heavy, too intrusive, and too soon.

\- Following Kaede4ever's advice and made the Rukawa-Mitsui relationship a bit more ambiguous.

(version 2) Changes in this chapter:

\- Strengthen Sendoh (again!) in comparison to Mitsui, and weaken Rukawa (again! - don't worry. He will epic all over the place all in due course.)

\- A bit more senru. This fic really does need a bit more "doki doki".

\- Failed to include Rukawa's sword. I'll have to fit it in later.

\- Tried to better distinguish between Sendoh's outward ease and stability, and his inward emotional turmoil.

\- Decided to build a more unequal relationship between Rukawa and Mitsui. I previously envisioned them as equals but I think the big-brotherly Mitsui will work out better. I do like the idea of both Mitsui and Kogure being a bit over-protective of their "little brother", especially considering their past. Rukawa might not like it but, hey. Who asked him?


	4. Chapter 3

**Anita:** Thanks again for your help with this chapter, I hope it's more correct now...! :D yeah... the relative strengths of the characters are a bit screwed up but I can't help that. I wouldn't say Sendoh really "lost" to Mitsui though. There's more than one way to "win", right? ;)

 **Kaede4ever:** There's still a bit more to Kaede and Hisashi's relationship. They're not blood brothers so still a bit of room for guesswork. Just a couple more chapters before I get back to where we were before, so please bear with me ;) I want to release Kaede on Minami just as much as you lol

 **Demon**

 **Chapter 3 (version 2)**

By the time they reached the city, the dusk was less than an hour away.

They traveled mostly over rooftops, avoiding the people on the streets below. The city spread out around them in a landscape of slanted roofs, peaks and valleys, green tiles as far as the eye could see, the occasional rooftop ornament, tiny furious stone dragons, or ceramic koi fish flashing fins. The sounds of marketing, bustling, hawking, and arguing floated up from below. Lives being lived. A whole complex world in which they took no part.

Sendoh wanted to go northwards, towards the Kamigyo, the outskirts of the city where the decimated tavern stood, and where they'd seen the gate open. But Rukawa refused.

Still feeling guilty over Rukawa's arm, Sendoh accepted Rukawa's decision with no more than a disappointed shrug. They would go south instead, and see what prey they could find.

They hardly needed to look. Sendoh's senses starting spinning before they'd even entered the city proper.

"So many?" he wondered aloud.

Rukawa turned to glance at him as they climbed a tiled roof. "The gate is open," he explained flatly, his wooden sandals clacking softly against the tiles.

Sendoh felt cold and nauseous in the overwhelming presence of demons. He could sense them as clearly as if the whole city were blackened and dirty with their presence. They were everywhere. The marks of them. The stench of them. Still, hundreds of people going about their normal lives remained totally oblivious to what was, to him, so obvious. But he was used to that now. They weren't slayers, after all. They'd never felt the pain of _aphesis_. They weren't awake to the sense.

Rukawa was, though. Despite their many differences, the pain and the sense was a curse common to them both.

The sporadic and winding streets gave way to neatly aligned rooftops, grid-like and unnatural, south beyond the city's central great castle, leading them to one of the two prosperous guardian shrines: To-ji. Rukawa slipped down the wall and landed delicately in the walled temple garden, his feet silent on the grass, balanced like a cat despite his one empty sleeve. Sendoh followed him and looked around.

It was quiet and peaceful. The temple gates were closed, and the monks had retreated to their quarters on the far side of the compound, leaving the beautiful landscape tidy and serene. Twilight was filling the world with it's own strange and unusual luster. The gardens seemed otherworldly in the fading light.

"No one will come here," Rukawa commented, seating himself on the stone head of a dragon and leaning back against the garden wall. Though his arm still rested in the sling Mitsui had made for him, he kept his sword on his left hip, and the sheath clicked quietly against the stone as he sat down. "This is a good place to fight."

Sendoh nodded, and listened to the sounds beyond the walls. The rumble of cartwheels, the occasional whinny of horses or barking of dogs could be heard muffled beyond the temple gates. The gradual winding down of the day. But in this garden there was no one at all.

He frowned a little. He was not used to waiting in ambush. It had always been his habit to hunt actively, pursuing the trails of demons whenever they appeared in the city.

But, he had to admit, everything was different now. Sendoh breathed in the quietness, alert with every sense he had to the comings and goings of demons. There were so many overlapping trails acting like a cacophony on his mind. Usually there was one trail and one demon, maybe two. But this night there was obviously numbers of them roaming, criss-crossing the paths of others, making it difficult even to tell in which direction the closest ones lay. He frowned to himself.

All this... was because of the gate?

The recollection of Sakuragi Hanamichi rose in his mind but he shook his head to clear it of the thought. With all the demon activity around him, he couldn't afford to be distracted.

He paced back and forth over the grass, made restless by the endless prickling of his senses. It was incredibly uncomfortable. Worse when he was forced to stand still and wait. The impulse to go, run, hunt, kill, was relentless, like an itch he couldn't scratch.

Rukawa didn't move, closing his eyes where he sat as if in sleep. That was, Sendoh deduced, his own way of coping with the sense that was needling him.

Around them, the dusk grew like a cloud expanding, blackening the quiet corners, changing the colours of the wood, the stone, the bare branches of the trees. The grass turned from green to grey. The world became ombre.

Finally a particularly strong burst of sickness compelled Sendoh to draw his sword in an aggressive hiss of steel, his eyes fixing on the temple garden wall, knowing - as sure as if he could smell them - that there were demons on the other side.

Somewhere behind him, Rukawa finally stirred into motion too, but Sendoh lifted a hand in a gesture to tell him to keep back.

Sendoh's lip curled slightly.

A hand appeared at the top of the wall, followed by a second. The demons were coming to them, perhaps having picked up their scent. They climbed over, a little laboriously. Their wings were still concealed, lending them the aspect of a human, but Sendoh was not for a moment fooled. The sense did not lie.

There were three. And there was nothing human about them.

He slowly wet his lips.

Sendoh couldn't help but feel a thrill, his heartbeat speeding up in anticipation. His whole being was flooded with such a black and furious hatred so that even for him - who had no real love of violence - cutting them down was an addictive euphoria.

It was the sense that drove him to hunt, but he would be lying if he claimed to hate it.

He waited for the demons to drop to the ground before he moved. His sandals flashed through the stalks of grass in near silence, holding Innocence low across his body, slicing off tips of grass blades as she passed, ferociously sharp.

So quick and silent he moved that the demons were not aware of his approach until he was already nearly among them. Surprised, they froze for an instant. He didn't wait but stepped forward into the small second of their indecision, and so the first was dead immediately - Innocence burst through its neck and wrenched upwards, splitting its face into halves.

The curse filled him with a flood of joy. A wonderous, numbing euphoria. A momentary release from the pain.

Sendoh's right foot swung around, smearing a path through the dew, rebalancing himself as the other two realised they were being attacked, tell-tale black wings startling from their backs, short swords drawn.

He evaded them by ducking low, and with a quick, low swipe he cut the legs right out from under the nearest one.

It screamed, a curling agonised shriek, and fell forwards to the ground, its wings moving wildly, battering its neighbour as it fell. Below its knees was nothing but a spray of black blood.

Sendoh silenced it as quickly as possible with a two-handed sweep that took off its head clean at the neck.

He turned eagerly to the last.

It was already falling, knocked down by its kin. It scrabbled to bring up its sword in defense, its wings arching to help it regain balance.

Sendoh didn't give himself any time to think. Another swing, a grunt of effort escaping his lips, and Innocence took off its sword-arm above the elbow. As it looked up enraged, Sendoh skewered it through its cheek and out the back of its skull, feeling himself rewarded with a moment of sheer happiness.

But a lurching sensation in his stomach made him turn to see more hands, more faces, appearing over the wall. The noise of the second demon's scream had attracted others.

This time they were more numerous. He counted six... seven... eight. His chest tightened. Too many. It was exceptional for him to see more than two together at the same time. He ought to retreat, but there was no time. They had already seen him and were coming his way. A few were beginning to unfurl their wings which would only serve to make them faster.

His raised Innocence, his eyes and hands totally steady.

"Come on, then," he muttered under his breath, eyeing them coldly.

The first two were slightly ahead of the others. With any luck he could kill one, or both, before more arrived. If he could space them out, even just a little, it might be enough.

He was aware of the quiet presence of Rukawa somewhere behind him, but he didn't have time to turn and look. If the boy had any sense, he reasoned, he would hide, or flee. There was nothing he could do with his arm in a sling. This was going to be a lost battle, by any reckoning. Sendoh wasn't going to come out of this unscathed.

The first demon crashed loudly against his blade. Sendoh pushed it back with all his strength, trying to bring Innocence around fast enough to get through its defense, but he was forced to block the second blade that came at him before he had the chance to strike. Already the first was moving forwards again, recovering fast, using its wings to propel itself with terrible speed. And beyond its shoulder, closer every second, were the others.

Taking a risky lunge Sendoh stepped in, bringing Innocence up with a sharp and vicious thrust. The sword went through one demon's soft stomach and out its back ribs. But the motion left Sendoh open to attack from the other. He saw the sword coming his way and had no time to block it.

He was forced to take an awkward sideways leap, pulling back again, dragging Innocence free so black blood spewed from the hole in the demon's gut. But by then, there were three more within striking distance.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance.

Innocence took one through the neck, but Sendoh was forced to retreat, pacing backwards, putting an elegant plinth and stone lantern between him and the demons, all the while knowing that every second he acted defensively, every second in which he failed to kill one, the odds were worsening as more arrived.

A demon blade sent up a shower of sparks where it grazed the lantern's sloping side.

Innocence caught the attacker with a stab straight through the eye. It fell back in a whirl of limbs and wings, collapsing to the floor in a heap which the others only stepped around.

Sendoh moved Innocence through the air in a defensive weave, but the others had all caught up now and he was facing five at the same time. For a moment he recalled how he'd woken up dazed in that alleyway, defeated. Soundly defeated. Had it only been a day ago? He couldn't win against five. It was impossible.

"Come on," he repeated, his breath slightly laboured, his eyes flashing rapidly between them, wary of the first strike. "I'm not going to die here, you pieces of shit."

A demon leapt at him and he smashed its sword aside in a furious parry, thrusting Innocence forward into its shoulder with a grunt of effort. Immediately two more went for him.

He watched them with detached, analytical eyes. He saw the swords fly, the paths they would take. One would catch on his forearm as he raised it in a last desperate defense. The other would go through his ribs. He sighed a little... he was unlikely to be lucky enough to survive that.

It irritated him that he should die like this. But could he truly say he didn't welcome it? Wasn't there always that small part of him looking for, hoping for, a fast and easy death?

Staring down the inevitable, it was tempting, very tempting, to surrender to his fate. He could perhaps rejoin his family. He could... rest.

Why continue his meaningless struggle in the face of hopelessness?

He watched the swords come at him and considered it all ponderously. Time was slow and lethargic around him. He wanted to die, he realised. Yes, that was true. But...

...but...

only

...not quite yet.

He snarled and let go, leaving Innocence where it was stuck through the demon's shoulder, throwing himself backwards inelegantly, feeling hotness where a sword sliced into the flesh of his arm.

He hit the floor hard, winced, and looked up to see another sword coming straight for his skull. He rolled away, kicking up turf, his two hands scrabbling at the dewy grass.

He didn't see what more he could do. A third sword skewered the ground where his hand had just been.

"Fuck - you -" he managed to gasp at them all, staring up at the tormentors towering above him, all steel and teeth and sharpness. They lifted their swords like spears to stake him.

Even struggling, even sheer desperation, was no longer going to defer the inevitable.

He might even have closed his eyes. He felt very alone.

And then the garden lit up with a soft blue light.

At first he thought he was imagining it.

It seemed... oddly familiar. Comforting and safe. And yet at the same time ethereal, as if it were the light of a benevolent god, far beyond mortal comprehension. A little piece of his soul seemed to strain towards the light.

 _Is this... what dying... is like?_

But he wasn't imagining it. And he wasn't dying. The demons saw it too, and as one they lifted their eyes, distracted by it.

The part of Sendoh's brain that had been hardwired through hundreds of hard-won fights set him into motion, forcing him to move despite his confusion. Onto his hands and knees, leaping forward like a cat, his hand closing around Innocence's hilt once again and dragging it free with a spurt of black blood.

He swung her around, hard, before the demons could react, and took the life of two in that one pass, Innocence unfailing in her perfect sharpness. They were confused too - their attention diverted two ways. It seemed as though the light attracted them, like insects to a flame, as if they simply couldn't bring themselves to look away from whatever it was they were seeing.

Innocence thrust upwards, through the soft underside of a jaw and out the top of a head, and another one crumpled.

She turned about mid-sweep, catching the moonlight like a smile, slicing diagonally downwards this time to open the next demon from shoulder to hip, before it could recover enough to raise a block.

Sendoh felt drunk with elation. He pushed his wilted fringe out of his eyes, and it stuck to his forehead with sweat.

The one remaining demon started to run, moving suddenly, its wings lifting and propeling it towards the source of that light.

Sendoh scrambled up and chased it.

Rukawa, he saw now, hadn't moved. Not at all. Not to hide, nor to flee, nor even to stand up. He was still sitting on his stone dragon, watching Sendoh's life and death struggle with vague interest. He'd partially drawn his sword, just an inch, and it was from the small piece of exposed blade that the strange blue light was emanating. The sword... glowed.

He was quietly observing the single demon that was heading his way through narrow eyes.

The demon, propelled by its wings, moved faster than Sendoh could run.

But the boy did not move. Very deliberately he sheathed his sword with a quiet click, and the blue light vanished. Sendoh caught a flash of hunger in Rukawa's eyes, the miniscule hint of amusement that twitched at the corner of his lips. Supreme confidence that Sendoh could not justify. He was too late, he thought frantically. Why hadn't he moved yet? Still? But he only watched as the demon came at him, the blade moving so fast that it whistled in the air. Ten feet, five feet, two. A blink of an eye, and you might miss it.

Sendoh cursed under his breath, willing Rukawa to move out of the way.

But it was too late. There was no way, no way that he could...

The demon's sword smashed into the stone dragon and it exploded into rubble. Sendoh winced.

But Rukawa had vanished.

Then, quietly, Rukawa's left hand came as if from nowhere and took hold of the back of the demon's head. With an easy thrust, he smashed it face first into the wall from behind.

The bricks shifted with the impact.

In surprise, Sendoh pulled up short. He could not for a moment understand what he was seeing.

Rukawa's eyes fixed on him with an expectant look. But Sendoh only stood stock-still in surprise. He'd never seen anyone, not even a demon, move that fast. He had been so sure that blade had been going to hit him and yet somehow Rukawa had encircled the hapless demon in the blink of an eye.

Rukawa's stare became slightly impatient. The demon had begun to scratch angrily at the stone with its hands, trying to push back and free itself from Rukawa's grip. It had dropped its sword earlier in the impact. Blood was dripping from its cracked skill yet it was still decidedly alive.

"Oh..." Sendoh realised.

He covered the remaining ground between himself and Rukawa. Rukawa finally released his hold just as Sendoh reached him, and Innocence passed straight through the back of the demon's skull and out its forehead. Only then did it crumple to the ground, lifeless.

For a moment, Sendoh breathed the trickling pleasure.

Then he turned to stare at Rukawa.

Rukawa was busy examining his hand with a vague expression of disgust. He tried to wipe it on his clothes.

"You're..." Sendoh began cautiously, "...really... fast."

Rukawa gave a shrug. "Do you want to find more?" he asked, without looking up.

Sendoh began to realise that he had seriously underestimated him. He was at least as fast as Mitsui. Unnaturally so. And even without the use of his sword he remained both dangerous and frighteningly composed.

Sendoh looked back over his shoulder at the carnage. Eleven.

Eleven was unheard of.

He'd never killed half so many before.

And Rukawa had simply sat and watched with lazy eyes like a lion twitching its tail in the grass. As if eleven were totally unremarkable.

How strong was he, really?

And that light...

Sendoh frowned. It... bothered him. There was definitely something... something very strange, about him. The way he moved. His sword. Even the look in his eyes.

But Sendoh didn't know what to say. So he simply dropped his eyes and shook his head.

"No," he replied. This was enough. Except...

He looked around at the bodies that were already beginning to fade. "He wasn't here," he observed quietly.

Rukawa paused momentarily, then lifted his head. He knew who Sendoh was referring to. Of course he did.

"No," he agreed after a moment. "We won't find him like this." He glanced at Sendoh from the corner of his eye. "Clean up," he instructed. "Let's rest for a while."

Rukawa went off to find a place to rest while Sendoh bent to clean Innocence on the grass.

Once finished, Sendoh found Rukawa in a small out building that appeared to be the temple kitchen. A small fire was still smouldering under the main stove, and Rukawa had built it up again so that it provided warmth against the chill air. The wooden shelves on the walls were full of dried ingredients and wooden utensils. Firewood had been stacked neatly in one corner, right up to the dark ceiling beams. Huge iron pots were suspended over the stove on a strong bamboo pole. Sendoh dragged a woven sack of rice closer to the stove, and sat down cautiously, stretching out his leg, all his muscles welcoming the warmth. He checked the wound on his arm which was thankfully superficial, then rubbed his hands over his face tiredly.

"What's with your sword?" he asked finally, fixing Rukawa with a stare through the firelight. "Why does it glow like that?"

Rukawa looked up from where he had sat on an empty crate, hesitated a moment, and then pulled the sheath from his obi and passed it silently across to Sendoh who received it curiously.

Sendoh was surprised. He hadn't expected Rukawa to show it to him so willingly. He certainly hadn't expected to hold it himself. He wondered briefly whether it meant that Rukawa trusted him, or whether it meant that Rukawa just didn't see him as any sort of threat.

Sendoh took firm hold of the handle, solid and well-worn, but strangely cold to touch, as if it were made of ice. He drew it with a gentle hiss. Immediately the blue light returned, but it was weakened by the bright firelight to an almost indiscernable glow.

Rukawa turned his head to watch him, a miniscule frown flickering over his expression.

Sendoh examined the sword curiously. It was broader and straighter than either Venegence or Innocence, designed to be weighty rather than fast. Better for defense than attack.

It was certainly much heavier than Innocence, but it was exquisitely made too. In spite of the weight, the balance was perfect.

Still, it didn't really seem to suit Rukawa, he thought critically. It was a sword meant to capitalise on raw strength to make best use of its weight.

He turned it over and the soft glow played over his hands and clothes. A gentle blue sheen. He'd never seen anything like it before.

"Why is it so cold?" he asked, gripping the handle tightly. His fingers felt chilled.

"It takes heat from you, to generate the light," Rukawa answered.

Sendoh frowned. "Doesn't that mean it... weakens you?"

Rukawa gave a minute shake of his head, but didn't otherwise answer. He held out his hand and Sendoh passed the sword back.

"And the light... attracts demons?" Sendoh pressed, curiously.

"It seems to distract them," he shrugged.

"Ah..." Sendoh hesitated, then smiled sheepishly. "Thanks for that."

That made it twice now, he recalled, that Rukawa had saved him.

But Rukawa just shook his head. "It was nothing."

"Does it have a name?"

Rukawa contemplated for a moment, looking down into the sword's light, apparently thinking.

Finally he said, "Its name is _Akira_."

Sendoh was taken aback. "That's- that's _my_ name," he breathed.

Rukawa looked up at him, apparently uncertain about what to say.

Sendoh's face broke out into a grin. It had been a long while since he'd last felt such amusement, but the fact that he shared a name with Rukawa's weird sword seemed to him at that moment to be so pleasantly ridiculous that he felt like laughing.

Rukawa shrugged and looked down, placing his fingers tenderly on the cool metal where it rested across his knees. "Akira..." he repeated softly, his mind wandering some unknown path.

"Kaede," Sendoh returned, with a lilting smile, the name falling comfortably from his lips.

Rukawa lifted his eyes to meet Sendoh's, but quickly looked away. Sendoh felt that same deep stirring in his gut, as if he'd stepped out and the ground had given way beneath him and he'd somehow found himself tumbling helplessly through the air. He sighed and leaned back a little, knitting his fingers together behind his head, looking up at the old beams and rafters shrouded in shadows.

"Say, Kaede..." he eventually asked thoughtfully, not looking away from the ceiling, "...would you tell me how you became a slayer?"

There was silence.

After a few moments, Sendoh turned his head to observe him.

Rukawa had stiffened visibly. He opened his mouth once or twice, as if trying to gather the words, but finally he shook his head.

"No," he said, frowning, keeping his eyes on the fire. "It's not that I don't want you to know..." he tried to explain, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "It's just I don't think I can... say it out loud."

Sendoh felt a rush of sympathy for him.

"It was because of _him_ though, wasn't it?" Sendoh's thoughts went back to the black shape of the demon in the gate. Sakuragi Hanamichi.

Rukawa stayed silent.

"Who is he? Why is he so strong?"

Rukawa pursed his lips slightly, carefully avoiding Sendoh's gaze. Probably he could feel, just as Sendoh couId feel, the unpleasant sensation that came whenever he thought about him. Even just the _idea_ of him. This demon. It was frightening.

Finally, with obvious reluctance, Rukawa spoke. "They call him _The Keeper of the Five Keys._ He is a... a _general_ I suppose. A very old and very powerful demon."

"Five Keys?" Sendoh repeated curiously.

Rukawa gave a deep frown. "There's five gates, across the world. He controls them. Opens them. Commands the demons that pass through them. The border between this world and their world; that's his... role."

Sendoh squinted at Rukawa curiously.

 _How did you come entangled with a powerful demon like that?_

 _What... happened to you..?_

"What about you?"

"Huh?" Sendoh glanced up at him.

Rukawa met his eyes. "How did you become a slayer? What was your aphesis?"

"Oh..." Sendoh gave a casual shrug. "It's a pretty common story, I guess. I was a kid. Six, seven, maybe. Demons killed my family. My parents, my little sister." He gave a wan smile; one that carefully concealed the rush of anger that he felt. He could see the scene in his mind's eye like it was yesterday, even though it had been sixteen years already since that day. "A slayer saved me, just by chance. Out hunting and happened to stop a couple of demons devouring a little boy." He curled his lip slightly. "He killed the demons. But he must have known. He must have seen it in my face - whatever it looks like; _aphesis._ So he gave me his sword..." subconsciously he reached out and touched the hilt of Innocence, "That's pretty much it. I've been hunting them since then."

He glanced up and saw Rukawa peering at him with a mixture of curiosity and sadness. He wasn't sure whether he minded his expression or not.

"Like I said..." Sendoh shrugged, "...nothing special."

" _Aphesis,"_ Rukawa repeated the word thoughtfully. "The moment that you become a slayer. The pain and the fear so great that it awakens the sense."

Sendoh snorted. "Right. Ridiculous, isn't it? Imagine, being so afraid that you physically become able to sense demons. What a lot of shit..."

He laughed, but there was no joy in the sound. His fingers dug their way into the canvas of the bag on which he sat like talons, his knuckles turning white. On the other side of the stove, Rukawa watched him with dark eyes that perfectly reflected his pain, as if he was looking into a mirror.

"... _shit_." Sendoh repeated, vehemently, and lapsed into silence.

He thought of Aida, Koshino and Ikegami. He thought about his lost family, and the man who had given him his sword. His hand clenched around Innocences's hilt compulsively, drawing small comfort from her familiar leather. He thought of Sakuragi Hanamichi, the gate, Rukawa's broken eyes, and Mitsui's unease.

He felt unsteady in that moment.

"I'm going to kill him," he blurted suddenly, his eyes flashing darkly, abruptly finding himself unable to swallow his hurt and anger back down. It rose through his chest like a whale breaking the surface. He clutched at his vows of retribution as if he were drowning and they might save him.

But Rukawa slowly shook his head. "No," he returned, his voice low and cold and whole enough to fill the room. "No. That moment will be mine."

He looked different in that second. As if the great shape of his soul had for a small instant become visible in his eyes. As if his blistering anger had taken form all around them; a monument vast and cold and twisted that filled the kitchen, the temple, the city beyond. Huge and fathomless. A hatred and a rivalry and a history that dwarfed Sendoh's younger feelings in sheer enormity.

Sendoh hesitated for a moment, and then relaxed with a sigh, releasing his grip on his anger and instead letting it drift in Rukawa's monstrous tempest like a kite.

"Well then," he conceded quietly, "I promise to bring you that moment, Kaede."

Rukawa stared at him once again as if he'd said something very strange. And Sendoh once again felt that strange lurch in his soul, like there were forces pulling him towards Rukawa that he could simply not resist.

"I feel like..." he tried to explain, touching his hand to his chest, "...our fates are bound together." He peered curiously at Rukawa. "Do you feel it too?"

Rukawa stared at him blankly before looking away. "Your imagination," he muttered vaguely.

Sendoh smiled gently. His eyes travelled along the length of Rukawa's sword, _Akira._ Nothing about it seemed coincidental to him. Not the name of that sword, nor Rukawa's presence in the tavern that night.

None of it was by accident. Surely.

Surely it was fate.

"No... no, I don't think so." He closed his eyes and savoured a rare moment of welcome quiet in that strange kitchen. "No, I'm pretty sure I'm right."

Rukawa did not reply.

-tbc

* * *

ANs: Massive thanks to Anita, the resident expert in Greek, for explaining to me how and why I was mis-using the terms aphesis/aphentes, and helping me to work it out ;)

 **Changes in this chapter:**

\- Pffft everything

\- Removed the tavern scene

\- Took Rukawa out of the fight with demons so it's a Sendoh-solo and relocated it in the city instead of outside it

\- Carried over the introduction of _Akira_ (the sword) from the old chapter 2.

\- A bit more doki doki again.

\- Changed aphentes to aphesis on Anita's wise advice ;)


	5. Chapter 4

**Anita:** Actually I didn't really change much by way of explanation in the last chapter. I think I added one more sentence about the "sense". I don't know why you didn't catch it the first time around hahaha. Oh well, I'm glad it's making more sense for you now anyway lol. Definitely love bad-guy Sakuragi in this. He's probably my favourite character. Maybe. Can't wait for him to appear :D Agree with you on the slower pace for the romance. I like it much better too.

 **Caro:** Hello, welcome! Thanks for your review :) I hope you enjoy the new chapter!

 **Demon**

 **Chapter 4 (version 2)**

Rukawa Kaede put one foot tentatively into the water and winced a little at the scolding heat before sinking in with a long sigh. He could not remember the last time he'd had the chance to use the bath. It had been many years since he'd last stayed here, after all.

He closed his eyes experimentally. Yes, it really was even better than he remembered. He stretched out his legs, the shape of his body rippling and moving beneath the water's surface like an illusion. The scolding hot water brought relief to tired muscles. He rested his bandaged arm on the edge, keeping it out of the water, and relaxed back with a pleasant sigh.

He stayed unmoving for a few moments before opening his eyes again and slowly considering the lacklustre state of the bath house. The tub itself was large, round, and could have sat five or six. But many of the panels needed replacing, he noticed, warped and discoloured by the humidity. Most the buckets set aside for washing were leaky. Old cobwebs, and the long-dead insects entangled in them, hosted the ceiling beams and corners. Had it really been so long that he'd been away? The place felt so empty and long-neglected. But the water - he trailed his fingers over the surface, making ripples - the water really was heavenly.

The last few days had been somewhat surreal. He couldn't fight, not properly, and it irritated him. But, as if in compensation, he'd been able to watch Sendoh fight. Walk next to him. Talk to him. And that - well. He didn't mind that at all. But it was tiring in its own way, having to be continuously on his guard. It felt unusual, still. To be... seen. To have Sendoh's eyes on him.

He lifted his hand to his chest that had turned oddly tight.

Was this feeling something he'd get used to? Somehow, he doubted it.

He frowned to himself. He had to be careful. Even more careful. Sendoh was too perceptive. He'd noticed it already, whatever it was - this... thing. This invisible line between the two of them. And even for Rukawa it was becoming stronger. His heartbeat was too fast.

He dropped his head back to stare up at the ceiling with a sigh.

Mitsui had probably been right, he reflected unhappily. He shouldn't have brought him here and yet... what else was he supposed to have done?

It was all because of the gate. The gate had opened. And everything had changed.

His thoughts alighted carelessly on Sakuragi Hanamichi and sudden pain cut like a knife behind his eyes. It caused him to gasp, leaning forward abruptly, sending a small wave across the water's surface to slosh against the opposite side of the tub. He clutched his head, his eyes watering, his breath suddenly gone.

Damn.

Damn him.

How was he supposed to fight when the mere thought of him was this painful? How was he supposed to defeat him when just the sound of his name was enough to bring him to his knees?

He let out a groan, massaging his temples.

At that moment, the screen door slid open, the wood grinding roughly against the frame, and Rukawa looked up. He worked quickly to erase any evidence of that momentary pain from his expression.

A figure stood in the doorway, eyes moving rapidly across the space, considering. The hot water, the grand size of the old bath, the dilapidated buckets, the warped or broken panels, the steam that rose like a mist. Then his eyes alighted finally on Rukawa, in the midst of all that.

 _Sendoh Akira._

Sendoh gave one of those smiles. Those common, handsome ones. They made him seem so stable and so whole. So much that even Rukawa was nearly convinced.

Nearly.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I was just looking around. You don't mind?"

Whatever shadow Sakuragi Hanamichi had thrown seemed to retreat a little.

Rukawa became very aware of his nakedness. The tickling of the water across his shoulder blades, the ghostly illusion of his legs beneath the water's surface, the damp beads of water still clinging to his skin. He felt suddenly vulnerable. He swallowed.

He didn't know what he was nervous of. He didn't know what he was hoping for, either.

Did he want him to leave? He pondered it as Sendoh closed the sliding door behind him, the noise of it seeming unnaturally loud, the pressing actualisation of their isolation. They were alone. The world was left outside.

No, he realised. He didn't want to be left alone here with his memories and his nightmares and the crushing weight of his unattainable revenge. He wanted him to stay.

But this was... Sendoh Akira. Not just an easy comfort, not some casual game, nor a temporary place to hide. This was Sendoh Akira. And everything that meant.

So logic said he couldn't. He absolutely mustn't.

For a moment he recalled Mitsui's parting words: _don't do anything fucking stupid._

Had this been what he'd meant?

It felt... dangerous.

In his bones. In his heartbeat. Right down to his soul.

Rukawa closed his eyes in defeat. He could no more deny this than he could tell Sendoh the truth. It made him feel a little sad. But it didn't change anything.

"So, it _was_ a bath house. I was wondering." Sendoh's expression seemed to take on a little mischief. "May I join you?"

Rukawa hesitated a moment before moving a little further down the side of the bath, freeing a little more space in the smallest gesture of invitation.

Sendoh smiled again.

He stepped out of his slippers onto the warm wood, moving his toes against the hard planks. His hand went to his obi and tugged at the knot.

Rukawa did not avert his eyes as the fabric came undone, the cotton parting slowly.

Sendoh turned aside with the same flawless, confident smoothness with which he seemed to do everything, and went towards the stools and buckets of cold water at the side in order to wash, shrugging his way out of his clothing as he went.

Rukawa's eyes followed him irresistibly.

His skin was pleasantly sun-kissed, slightly tan. His form was larger, more muscular, then Rukawa's. There were no soft places, only muscle and sinew, hard and powerful. Rukawa's eyes moved up his thighs, over his stomach, across his strong back and arms, down along the curve of his buttocks. Nothing soft or gentle. Only angles, hardness, a quiet study in masculinity.

Rukawa watched the muscles of his thigh tense and move with every step. He sank a little lower into the water so it reached right up to his chin, his eyes strangely bright.

But his gaze lingered too on the mistakes, the errors, and the failings. Marks, scars, damage unfaded. The deepest wound on his leg was still not fully healed. The more recent one on his arm less significant yet still visible. It made Rukawa press his lips together tightly. He could have prevented those, he thought, if only his arm wasn't...

Rukawa glanced down at himself, ghostly and pale in the water. He brushed his left hand over the skin of his thigh beneath the shifting surface. Apart from his bandaged arm there were no marks at all. No visible ones, anyway. Was it strange? He wondered whether Sendoh would notice such a thing.

Sendoh had sat on a low stool and drapped a cloth over his lap. He took the least leaky bucket and began to wash himself with the chill water. His fringe dropped sopping into his eyes and he pushed it back habitually so it rumpled on his forehead.

When he was finished, he turned towards the bath and Rukawa finally forced himself to lower his gaze. He only looked up again once Sendoh had lowered himself into the water with a relaxing sigh, the white cloth floating idly to the surface.

Two feet of hot water and humid air separated them.

Sendoh turned towards him, his eyes considering the bandage that still covered Rukawa's right arm from wrist to shoulder.

"Why don't you take that off?" he asked. "The water will do it good."

Rukawa could not seem to drag his eyes away from the water line where it lapped gently against the skin of Sendoh's upper arm. He shook his head. "No, I..."

Before he could finish his protest, Sendoh had reached for Rukawa's shoulder, closing the distance still further, seeking to undo the bandage. Mere inches now. He filled the whole of his vision. Damp skin and hot pulse. Rukawa's heart climbed into his throat and stuck there, hammering.

"I'll reapply it for you," Sendoh explained gently, taking hold of his arm, already unwinding the fabric carefully. "So?"

Rukawa couldn't tell if Sendoh simply hadn't noticed their proximity, or whether he was just naturally this at ease.

His eyes followed the line of Sendoh's arm and elbow where it dipped into the water, moving over his shoulder, up along his jaw, then lifting to meet his eyes. Their gazes touched. A heartbeat. He let out his breath softly through his lips. So close, Sendoh could probably feel it on his skin. Warm air like a nervous kiss.

Sendoh immediately stilled.

 _Ah_ , Rukawa thought with a vague and distant satisfaction, _he's realised it now_. He could feel Sendoh's fingertips suddenly motionless against the skin of his arm, a pleasant tingling where they touched. He watched the apple in Sendoh's throat move as he swallowed. A drop of water fell from the tip of his fringe and hit the water silently.

Rukawa waited.

"Uhm-" Sendoh seemed to hesitate, just a second, his eyes flickering downwards towards Rukawa's lips, before lifting again. Then he smiled, and seeming to shake off the moment, tracing Rukawa's forearm gently with his fingertips. "This looks much better."

It took Rukawa a moment to realise that he was referring to his arm. His eyes also dropped downwards to see it.

What Sendoh said was true. The burns that had marred his skin had faded to almost nothing. He tried moving carefully, one finger at a time, then his wrist, his elbow, easing the joints gently. It was stiff, but functioning. He felt an enormous rush of relief. It was healing. Everything... everything should be easier now.

"A couple more days and it'll be as good as perfect," Sendoh smiled and moved a little closer.

 _A couple more days._ Rukawa frowned a little. _I hope we have a couple more days._

Rukawa looked up and suddenly saw that Sendoh's smile was closer than ever, and had turned into something else. Something meaningful. Something different from his usual smile. Rukawa abruptly felt as if the breath was being forced out of him.

"Do you want to celebrate?" Sendoh's fingers lifted to brush his jaw casually, easily, as if it were something he did every day. His touch a very delicate question, his voice soft and appealing and warm.

But Rukawa flinched. Involuntarily, yet visibly. Noticeably. Undeniably.

He hadn't meant to, and hadn't wanted to, but there was no way he could retract it.

Sendoh's touch vanished at once. He drew back, reestablishing the distance between them, though the smile didn't leave his features, and the reassuring warmth didn't leave his eyes. As if nothing had changed. Nothing except the gap.

Rukawa stared at Sendoh's face; his expression was perfect. Infallible. Whatever he was thinking remained totally and completely hidden. And Rukawa felt a touch of sorrow for space between them.

"Kaede, I..." Sendoh's smile was all reassurance. He gestured vaguely, searching for words, "...I don't know you. I don't know... your past or... or who you are even now but I... I feel like I do. I feel like I've known you my whole life. It's... crazy I know but... I really think that I..."

He trailed off, his words seeming to fail him, and then he shook his head.

"I'm sorry. I know that I've made you a bit uncomfortable. That wasn't my intention."

Rukawa tried to force his throat to work, his tongue and lips to form words, but he felt so dry, so staked to the ground, it was a struggle. Like a fish gasping at the air for a breath he couldn't take. His voice came out cracked and weak.

"No... it's not... it's just that I..."

"You don't need to explain," Sendoh interrupted him with a smile that was as warm and whole as ever. An utterly flawless mask. "One day... one day I'll know. All your secrets. Whatever it is that you're hiding. Who you are. Everything. And then... well..." he trailed off, smiling.

Rukawa could only stare at him. This was not, absolutely not, what he'd been expecting. Hadn't it been obvious where all this was going? Even if he absolutely must not, should not, could not, follow it to its natural and irresistible conclusion. Would he have blamed Sendoh for doing what was so easy, so obvious, so incredibly and unstoppably right?

Of course not. He'd expected it. Waited for it, his breath bated, his heart fluttering. The feel of his lips, covering his mouth, on his neck, his shoulders, everywhere. Waited, and wanted.

It should have been thoughtless and easy.

Instead it was becoming meaningful and heavy.

His fists clenched on his lap as he resisted the urge to fix the problem, to claim those lips, that body - that body! - for himself. To demand from him, take from him, loose himself in the folds of his heat and his outrageous damn searing soul.

Damn.

 _Damn._

Of course he knew he mustn't. He couldn't. It would be stupid. Fucking stupid.

But that, still, didn't change anything. In fact nothing, he reflected, was ever going to change this.

Rukawa's fingers dug deeper into the flesh of his thigh, hard enough to hurt. _You don't know anything_ , he thought irritably to himself. _You've no_ _idea at all._

His heart squeezed uncomfortably against his ribs.

 _But that... that's my fault, isn't it?_

He glanced up into Sendoh's smiling eyes.

 _I'm the one who's done nothing but lie to you._

 _One day you'll know... who I am?_ He could not hold back a small, bitter smile from the corner of his lips. _Who am I? What am I?_ He shook his head slightly. _Not even I am sure of those answers anymore._

Seemingly oblivious to the tension in Rukawa's face, Sendoh leaned back against the edge of the tub with a restful breath. "The water is heavenly, isn't it?"

Rukawa moved his head slightly, letting his fringe fell over his eyes, hiding himself from view. "Aa," he agreed very quietly. "Heavenly."

Silence settled over them.

Out of nowhere, the bath house door once again slid open roughly with a crash, startling the both of them so they both sat upright in surprise, the water sloshing noisily against the sides.

"Kaede," Mitsui's eyes fixed on him seriously. He stood in the doorway, dirty from several days of travelling and sleeping outdoors, still carrying nothing but the sword he'd left with. There was blood on his sleeve. A deep black stain. He didn't say anything more.

Rukawa stood up, the water rolling from his flushed skin in tiny rivulets. "Now?" he asked.

"Not yet. Probably tonight."

"Is it-?"

"No. But there might be a lieutenant. Kiminobu wasn't too sure."

Rukawa frowned and looked down at his right hand. He moved the wrist carefully in circles, and then shook his head slightly. "Akira?"

Sendoh looked up, his eyes full of questions. "Yes?"

"Help me bandage this."

Sendoh looked again at his arm, the marks that persisted, and nodded seriously. "Of course."

Rukawa's bare feet left dark, damp patterns on the wooden floor as he stepped out of the bath. His expression was so serious that Sendoh looked at nothing but his eyes.

* * *

It was the longest afternoon Sendoh could remember. Waiting for a storm. The evening came on slowly, giving the light the strange, twilit quality that comes at the dusk. Yellowish and warm, although the air was cold.

The irori was burning low, just enough to light the space. Sendoh sat with Rukawa in one corner of the main room, his legs crossed, his sword laid in front of him, trying to apply the salve and fix the bandage as he'd watched Mitsui do. Rukawa's eyes were closed in a kind of prickly patience, his brows slightly creased.

Mitsui, after washing and changing his clothes, had taken to pacing around restlessly. Sitting, then standing, then sitting somewhere new. It irritated Sendoh, although he made no comment.

"Finished," Sendoh said finally, and Rukawa opened his eyes again to inspect his freshly bandaged arm. He no longer needed the sling, but the tight bandages restricted the movement of his elbow, meaning fighting would still be awkward, if not impossible.

He moved it cautiously. It was well done, and wouldn't unravel.

Rukawa considered Sendoh for a moment, the firelight catching the dark curve of his irises. Then he inclined his head slightly in recognition and then lifted his eyes to observe the restless Mitsui instead.

"Did Kiminobu say how many?" he demanded.

Mitsui shrugged, and did not stop his pacing. "Twenty five, maybe. Thirty."

The number seemed to give Rukawa pause.

"What are you planning to do?" he asked after a moment.

Mitsui stopped and looked over at him, apparently appalled. "Kill them," he answered, as if it were not only obvious, but easy.

Rukawa frowned.

It was at that moment that Sendoh felt it. A wave that passed through his stomach. A lurching sickness, a warning, clear as a bell. Demons.

Rukawa turned his head. Mitsui let out an angry tsk. Sendoh knew they'd felt it too.

He straightened his back, pushing one hand bracingly against his stomach, the other reaching for _Innocence._

He climbed to his feet, only to feel a thump as Mitsui's flat palm shoved him hard in the chest, causing him to nearly sit down again in surprise.

"Not you, little brother," Mitsui told him icily. "You'd better stay safely inside."

Sendoh was momentarily too surprised to respond. Then his face turned cold. "Are you joking?"

Mitsui's lips tightened and he narrowed his eyes. He turned his gaze on Rukawa. "Kaede?"

Rukawa climbed quietly to his feet as well. "It's fine. I'll handle it."

Mitsui did not look happy. "Don't be stupid. There's thirty, and _you're_ no help. How can you possibly..."

"I said I'll handle it," Rukawa's eyes met Mitsui's adamantly.

Mitsui scowled. "For fuck's sake. This is going to get us all fucking killed. And for what? You want me to take down thirty demons by myself, like _this_?"

"I'll handle it."

"Fucking _how_!?" Mitsui snarled, gesturing to Rukawa's arm.

Rukawa did not back down. The two glared ferociously at each other a moment longer.

Finally, Mitsui's attention swung back to Sendoh. "You'd better keep the fuck out of my way," he snapped. And with that he stormed through the door into the dusk, drawing Vengeance furiously as he went.

Sendoh could only stare after him in confusion, before turning his eyes upon Rukawa questioningly.

Rukawa ignored him, and moved towards the paper screens by the outer door, staring out at the darkening farm after Mitsui's retreating back. Most of the paper was damaged, Sendoh noticed vaguely. Holes, breaks, or else yellow mildew, creeping across the white surface.

The sick feeling in his stomach was increasingly disturbing; far stronger than usual. Sendoh put one nervous hand to his chest, at once afraid that it might overcome him completely, and that he might lose his mind or be totally unable to act. Familiar panic started thrusting its jittery path like a deranged spider climbing his windpipe. He swallowed it back down.

He couldn't afford to succumb to his fear. Not if there were really thirty demons out there.

Did Mitsui really intend to fight them all? Alone?

Mitsui was a good fighter, but... that just wasn't possible, for anyone.

Sendoh put his hand around the hilt of Innocence and took a breath. What did it matter, in the end? Whether there were thirty, or a hundred? They would slay them. There were no other choices. They were all enslaved to the sense that cursed them. There was no such thing as running away. Not for them.

The sense demanded, and they obeyed.

But thirty? Would any of them survive thirty demons?

He shrugged and pushed forward, in spite of fear and logic, passing Rukawa where he stood waiting by the door, heading out into the dusk.

After a short moment, Rukawa followed him.

Even though the darkness made it increasingly difficult to see, the sense moved through him intensely. Sendoh knew - though he couldn't explain how he knew it - that there were several milling around beyond the trees to the right and left. Most of them were directly ahead, past the rice paddies. They seemed to be waiting for something.

A sudden scream rose up from the tree line, eerie and faltering, breaking the silence of the night. A demon dying. Mitsui must have reached them already. It seemed that all at once the twilight was full of movement. All along the edges of the farm, things were rustling, snarling, drawing swords.

Without thinking, Sendoh started running. Rukawa followed closely at his heels.

The air was cold as Sendoh sucked it into his lungs. His sandals slapped heavily against the hard-packed earth. Tall weeds growing out of the empty paddies sometimes caught at his clothes, but he didn't slow.

The sound of swords up ahead grew more distinct.

He pulled Innocence free even as he ran, grasping her defensively in two hands. It was more awkward to run this way, with his right hand crossing his body, Innocence's sharp tip trailing through the air behind like a ship's rudder. But it would be faster to bring her up at any moment.

The soft sound of Rukawa's footfalls followed him, and the comforting blue glow of _Akira_ appeared, reflected on the stalks of grass about their feet, strange and magical.

It would attract them, Sendoh recalled. He strengthened his grip.

A demon came for them almost at once, out of the sky. It dropped to the ground just ahead of them, it's inky black eyes reflecting the blue light, it's wings whirling as it came straight at them with it's mouth wide in a silent scream, teeth black and rotting. _Innocence_ opened its rib cage wide in one huge diagonal blow, Sendoh barely breaking his stride.

They continued along the top of the ridge, above the paddies. Further ahead, the fighting, doubtless with Mitsui at it's centre, appeared as a boiled mass of movement and shadow; the shapes of wings, swords, momentarily visible, then lost in senseless shadows.

Sendoh caught sight of two more demons coming at them from the right. They were flying low over the paddy, barely skimming the tops of the weeds, straight towards them, blades bare. Sendoh skidded to a stop and squared his stance towards them.

He had never faced a demon in flight before. Still, he bent his knees, lowering his centre, and held Innocence in a defensive slant, ready for their contact. However, they ignored him, and they both went towards the light of _Akira_ and Rukawa instead. Conscious of the fact that Rukawa couldn't block them, Sendoh turned anxiously, seeking to intercept them. But his concern was foundless.

He had forgotten, or perhaps he had never truly believed.

If he had rationalised Rukawa's speed as a mere trick, an illusion, an error borne by his own eyes in the darkness, that self-imposed falsehood was overturned.

Rukawa moved past their blades as if he was stepping casually through stalks of wheat, evading them with easy elegance. They moved so fast, Sendoh could barely follow the motion of their attack. But they could no sooner touch Rukawa than catch the wind in a net.

They continued past, the two demons, unable to stop their own momentum. Sendoh stepped in behind and thrust his sword right through the back of one neck. As the other demon tried to recover and turn, he struck it hard just above the ear, Innocence ploughing a good few inches into its skull. He dragged her free and they moved on.

They came finally to where Mitsui was fighting and slid to a stop. Sendoh stared.

Mitsui was surrounded by eight demons. Six more were already dead, at his feet or strewn about in ugly smudges of their own blood. He was standing very still, waiting as the demons around him tried to judge their moment to attack. They were hanging back as if wary of him, pacing right or left.

Nothing moved about Mitsui except his eyes.

Black blood dripped ominously from Vengeance's tip.

Then, the demons moved.

Five came at him simultaneously; five swords, murderous and brutal, from his front, behind, to his right and left. All at once, and all at a speed that was uncomfortable to see.

Vengeance shimmered momentarily, suspended in a short second of isolation, before she snapped into motion.

Right, then left. One demon caught her across the face, the next in the shoulder, another in the gut. Every movement was perfect, vicious accuracy. Bringing death, a block, slice, turn, death, and death again. Every step swift and decisive. The demons were formidably fast, murderous, overwhelming, and yet Mitsui met them with his single sword as if it were all nothing but a pantomime. One by one they joined the dead at his feet; eight, then ten, then twelve, like they were nothing. Ants. Less than ants. The ground turned black and boggy with their blood.

Sendoh's heart seemed to stand still. There was a distant ringing in his ears. He had never in his life seen a swordsman so skilled.

"Kaede..?" he muttered in a low voice, unable to tear his eyes away. "I thought Mitsui was left-handed?"

Rukawa let out his breath slowly. "He's not."

Sendoh swallowed.

He began to wonder... could Rukawa fight like that too?

He glanced at Rukawa from the corner of his eye, but Rukawa did not move, standing where he seemed to prefer to be, just a small half-step behind Sendoh's right shoulder, watching Mitsui dispassionately, as if it were nothing unusual in the least.

A strange feeling, an unfamiliar sensation of his stomach lifting, made Sendoh turn his eyes instinctively upwards. There was a demon shooting silent and deadly down out of the sky, it's vicious eyes fixed on Mitsui below, its sword drawn.

It was above him, Sendoh realised, and so Mitsui wouldn't see it. A sense of urgency overtook him. He needed to warn him. But before he could make a sound, a motion, or even a half-step forwards, Mitsui had already turned. Precise and lightning-quick, he threw Vengeance - really threw it, like a spear - so that it flashed through the air with improbable speed and took the descending demon straight through its collar and into its chest. Immediately the attacker crumpled mid-air, dropping its sword which tumbled in a dangerous wheeling arc and thudded into the ground. The dead demon's momentum carried it sideways, plummeting downwards in a flailing ball of limbs and wings, smashing heavily into the branches of a tree and hanging there like a broken puppet.

Sendoh's eyes flew back to Mitsui only to see him dodge as the three surviving demons chose that moment to come at him together. He had no sword now. Only his reflexes.

Sendoh's immediate instinct was to help, but Rukawa didn't move. His arms remained crossed, his expression stony. Sendoh hesitated, and then was drawn up short by a sudden flare of brilliant blue light.

He turned his head in surprise.

It was Vengeance.

The sword had burst into light, far brighter than that of Rukawa's blade. It was blindingly brilliant, even where the sword was buried deep in demon flesh. The branches of the tree shook, shedding old leaves, and then the sword flew free. It flew through the air like a lightning bolt loosed, and came hilt-first into Mitsui's waiting palm.

Sendoh couldn't hold back the exclamation of amazement that passed his lips then. As Vengeance swung savagely back about, decapitating another attacker, he felt so strongly at that moment that Mitsui must be some kind of god. He had never seen anything like it before. The awe he felt was totally stunning. He wanted... to be like that. He wanted to fell them like a scythe cutting through wheat. Totally captivated by what he was seeing, for a brief and dangerous moment, he totally forgot where he was.

There was a shout, and a sudden violent lurch in his stomach. He turned around, just a little too late, to see another group of demons bursting out of the trees and coming towards them. A seething mass of teeth and butchery. Ten, eleven... more.

Rukawa cursed under his breath.

The last thing Sendoh remembered was the sound of wings clapping together nearby as a demon took flight, and then Rukawa's hand in his back shoved him ferociously out of the path of the demons.

Then everything went black.

* * *

He awoke with his head resting against the root of a huge cedar tree, Innocence still in his hand, and a vicious headache splitting his skull. A gentle breeze played about his fringe, but the night was fully black now. There were grey lumps on the ground all around - bodies, he realised, of demons. Many of them were already fading.

He tried to count them. He got to twenty-six before the sound of voices reached him.

"Well, it wasn't very elegant," it was Mitsui's voice. "But I suppose it worked."

An irritated hiss. That was Rukawa.

Sendoh turned his head feebly - his pulsing headache making him wince - and saw them standing together just a few feet away.

Rukawa's arms were folded, looking around his feet, kicking over the bodies, making sure they were all dead. Mitsui was stretching his right arm out, wincing slightly, massaging his shoulder.

"I've missed fighting with you," Mitsui said finally, the slight curve of a smile at the corner of his voice.

"Two got away," Rukawa pointed out with an agitated shake of his head.

Mitsui shrugged. "So what? It's only two. Let Sakuragi think we are weaker than we are. What does it matter?"

"Because they'll tell him about..." Rukawa's voice dropped lower, "...about Akira."

Mitsui was silent for a moment. "Huh," he said finally. "You'll think he'll see through your plan? No one will see through your plan. It doesn't make any fucking sense. It never did."

Rukawa's arms drop to his sides. He clenched his fists. "You were right," he admitted in a tight voice. "I should have listened to you."

Mitsui clicked his tongue. "Too late for that now." He began to work his shoulder in circles.

Rukawa shook his head. "I thought..." he gestured vaguely with one hand, "...he was just some boy I don't know, what did it matter? But..."

Mitsui let out a sigh. "But... he not just some boy any more?" he suggested.

Rukawa shook his head mutely.

Mitsui folded his arms. "Look. You've kept him alive instead of just leaving him to die. You've got nothing to feel guilty about. Besides, he can fight. He's pretty good, you know. Considering."

"But if Hanamichi finds him?" Rukawa interrupted.

Mitsui sighed "Just keep to the plan. If it all goes well, Sakuragi will be dead. And maybe Sendoh Akira will still be alive. With any luck, so will we. But nothing is certain, Kaede."

"Except that he'll come."

Mitsui gave him a hard look.

"Right," he agreed finally. "He always comes. For you."

Sendoh let out his breath. The sound of Sakuragi Hanamichi's name had once again set off all his senses like a compass placed too close to a magnet. He began to struggle woozily to his feet, nursing his bruised head. By the time he was upright, Mitsui had gone on ahead.

"Kaede..." he began, and Rukawa half-turned towards him. Sendoh frowned. "I meant what I said. I'm going to get you your revenge. You don't need to protect me."

Rukawa's face was full of shadows. "Let's go back to the house," he muttered distractedly. Sendoh saw him compulsively squeezing and releasing the hilt of his sword.

Sendoh looked down at his own hands. What could he do with those two hands, that Mitsui couldn't already do? What good was he to Kaede when Mitsui so already so strong? What was he meant to do?

For an instant he recalled Aida slipping away. Koshino. Ikegami. He'd failed them all.

How could he presume to believe he would ever be enough?

Then he pushed the blackness away furiously, slamming the door on it, putting his lost friends to the back of his mind. Mitsui had said that Sakuragi would come. If he wasn't enough now, he would just have to be enough then, that was all.

He turned his feet to follow Rukawa back to the house, his brow set.

* * *

"How did you do that?" Sendoh asked Mitsui later, when they had finished their simple meal of boiled rice and coal-roasted mackerel. Sendoh had done the cooking. Neither Mitsui nor Rukawa seemed to have much interest in preparing food.

Mitsui had been excited over the meal. Rukawa had said nothing, although he ate hungrily enough.

"Do what?" Mitsui demanded, still chewing on a last mouthful of rice.

They were sitting around the irori, pleasantly warmed by the coals. The light of the fire lit the house. Outside, the dawn was still a few hours away.

Mitsui was relaxing on the edge of the main platform, his feet on the dirt floor, his posture slouched and lazy. Vengeance leant against his leg. He'd already cleaned her meticulously.

Rukawa was sitting cross-legged, his chin propped up by his palm, and his elbow dug into one knee. His hair fell over his eyes which stared blankly at the glowing coals. His empty rice bowl sat on the mat in front of him.

Sendoh thought he was beginning to recognise the dark mood that descended over him whenever his thoughts became occupied with Sakuragi Hanamichi. Though he'd tried, Rukawa had refused to be distracted, so Sendoh had turned his attention to Mitsui instead.

"Make your sword come back to you," Sendoh elaborated.

"Oh, that," Mitsui grinned a little mischievously. "Vengeance always comes when I call her. Why - doesn't your sword do the same?"

"Of course not," Sendoh replied.

"Huh. Maybe it does, and you just don't know it. It's an angel's sword, isn't it? Why don't you try it?"

Sendoh's eyes flickered doubtfully to _Innocence_ on the tatami beside him. He reached out to touch her curiously. Was it possible that she had some hidden magic too?

"How do you do it?" he heard himself ask.

Mitsui gave a slow grin. "Watch," he said, putting down his bowl and standing up. He drew Vengeance from her sheath and placed her down on the mat where he'd been sitting. Then he took a few paces backwards.

Sendoh's eyes flickered over to Rukawa who hadn't looked up from the fire. In fact he looked like he hadn't even heard their conversation at all.

"An eye for an eye!" Mitsui said loudly, his commanding voice filling the room. Sendoh squinted as Vengeance glowed as if white hot, and then hurtled into Mitsui's open hand. He turned his smug expression upon Sendoh expectantly, arrogance in every line on his face. Even so, Sendoh couldn't help being impressed.

"Is it... like... magic?"

"Yeah, maybe. I don't know. It just works." Mitsui shrugged.

"An eye for an eye," Sendoh repeated. He looked down at Innocence thoughtfully. "Those words... are to do with vengeance, aren't they?"

Mitsui sheathed Vengeance again, and retook his seat. "I guess," he acknowledged. "Maybe your sword would respond to a different phrase? _Innocence_ , isn't it?"

"Yeah, _Innocence_..." Sendoh answered slowly.

"Huh," Mitsui looked over at Rukawa. "Any bright ideas, Kaede?"

Rukawa looked up at the sound of his name. "What?"

"My little brother here is trying to work out how to make his sword come to him."

For a brief second, Rukawa looked irritated. "How would I know?"

Mitsui only grinned and shrugged, turning back to Sendoh. "Oh well. Too bad. Maybe you should just keep trying," his face showed a wickedly dark amusement.

Sendoh began to suspect that the idea of him talking to his sword like a madman for hours appealed to Mitsui.

Mitsui got casually to his feet and shrugged. "Well, I guess I'll be off, then."

Rukawa glanced up at him "Where are you going?"

Mitsui grinned wider. "To meet Kiminobu," he revealed, his eyes shining.

"Ah..." Rukawa looked at him through his fringe. "Will he be safe? The gate is already...?"

Mitsui waved away the concern. "I'll be with him."

"Do you need any help?"

"No thank you," Mitsui quipped shortly, making it pretty clear he didn't want anyone else around.

"Who's Kiminobu?" Sendoh asked curiously.

They both shared a look.

"Our brother," Rukawa said, at exactly the same time as Mitsui said, "My lover."

Sendoh looked between them both. Rukawa shrugged and looked away, and Mitsui let out a laugh. He snatched up Vengeance and grinned at both of them, looking inordinately pleased with himself. "There's nothing like spending time with your lover to finish a perfect night killing demons, you know." He laughed again, and the sound was genuinely happy.

Sendoh felt his heartbeat speed up, and he had to carefully avoid looking towards Rukawa. He could feel a soft blush heating up his face which he tried to ddisguise by facing the fire. On the other side of the irori, Rukawa was doing exactly the same.

* * *

Later, laying on his musty futon and staring up at the cobwebs in the ceiling, Sendoh replayed in his mind over and over again what he'd seen. The way Mitsui had fought. The way Vengeance had flown. The way Rukawa moved with that unnatural speed.

He knew, he'd always known from the beginning, that there was something strange about them both.

Did he have his suspicions?

Seeing Mitsui fight with a speed that was god-like, watching that sword of his fly through the air, drawn by some magic Sendoh had never even imaged before... wouldn't he be foolish not to guess something, _something..._?

He rubbed his hands over his face in helpless confusion, turned over on his futon and sighed. It was easier not to think about it.

Instead he let his mind drift back to Rukawa's sharp eyes reflected in the bath water, the droplets of water stuck to his skin, that moment - that one small moment - that he'd been close enough that Sendoh could feel whisper of his hot breath against his cheek.

Sendoh screwed his eyes closed tight, his hand closing in a fist around the blanket, and tried not to imagine what might have happened if he'd simply leaned forward and kissed him in that moment.

-tbc

* * *

Major changes in this chapter:

\- Wrote first scene from Rukawa's POV. The scene just didn't carry any weight without it.

\- No sex. After wrangling with this scene for ages and ages it became stupidly obvious to me that neither Sendoh nor Rukawa would take such a step at this point in time. It just didn't make any sense. So it's gone. In compensation - there's the bath. Yes. And a whole lot of holding back, on both sides. And a bit of doki doki. And then some more.

\- Rukawa doesn't do any fighting. Still. Again. Awe, come on, really? When? WHEN?! (Spoiler: next chapter!)

After rereading the whole thing again, I still really hated chapter 2. So I've re-done it. Yup. Again. No plot changes, just execution. It reads 100 times better now. I think. I hope. Feel free to check it out if you have really nothing better to do. Haha.


	6. Chapter 5

**Caro -** Thanks to the wonder of Google Translate I am able to read your review lol! Thanks for your kind words :) muchos gracias ;)

 **Kaede4ever -** very glad to know that you are still reading along. Took your advice for the MitRu (such as it is) in chapter 2 and it's all the better for it. Please do continue to share your criticisms, it's incredibly helpful!

 **Demon**

 **C** **hapter 5**

 **Warnings: potentially triggering sexual assault**

The following evening after eating, with the sky already darkening, they left _Yoku_ together to hunt.

Sendoh watched Rukawa as he walked ahead. Each quiet placement of his feet, the brush of his hem against the back of his calves, the invisible trail made by the weave of his sword with each motion of his hips.

He was, Sendoh felt keenly, so much more than he seemed.

The night adored him, and the world turned around him with every delicate step he took.

And his eyes.

The pain that went on and on and down and down like a spiral, huge and dark and old like the stars.

There were things Sendoh wanted to ask him, but the words and the moments always seemed to evade him. So as usual, he set his lips, wondering only with his eyes as they walked onwards together, totally unknowing that this night was going to change everything.

In the maze of darkened city streets their senses swirled. Sendoh veered right, taking the lead as he tended to do, following his instincts while Rukawa quietly kept pace as always. They passed sleepy houses and unlit windows, but the sense grew and grew until Sendoh thought he would be sick with it.

That was when he looked back at Rukawa uncertainly. It was stronger, and different, from usual. He was wary about what it meant. They couldn't afford to hunt recklessly, not with the gate open as it was.

He could remember times when he'd wandered blindly and thoughtlessly through the city, sometimes with Ikegami, sometimes totally alone. He'd encountered one, maybe two, demons each night. But that had been before the gate opened, before he'd met Rukawa, and before the demons had started to appear in much greater numbers.

So he looked at Rukawa questioningly, wondering whether this feeling was likely to be something they could handle, and Rukawa only shrugged. A careless gesture. Like it was all the same to him.

So they carried on, following the feeling to its source.

They came upon a group of eight demons. They'd killed, and were fighting over the body down a dim alley lined with old pallets and discarded timber. Sendoh could remember when eight demons would be his death sentence. But Rukawa was beside him now. Things were different.

Rukawa hung back as he usually did while Sendoh went forward, quiet and dangerous, coming among them before they even looked up. Innocence took the life of one mid-bite.

The remaining seven leapt back like a nest of disturbed vipers, hissing and drawing their blades and unfurling their wings, leaving the half-devoured corpse where it lay, entrails glistening.

Sendoh pulled Innocence out of the back of the demon he'd killed and went without pause for the next. It blocked him, bringing up its sword, its yellow eyes screwed up with rage. Then it attacked. The blows were fast and heavy, but Sendoh did not give ground. The other demons were circling, preparing, lunging with hisses and snarls, but Sendoh did not give them more than a cursory consideration. He and Rukawa had gone through this routine enough times by now that they trusted one enough implicitly.

Sendoh knew that _Akira's_ light would draw them off at the necessary moment. All he needed to do was focus on taking them down, one at a time, as efficiently as possible. He was the sword. Rukawa was the light.

The demon stumbled on a broken wooden slat and the speed of its assault dropped off momentarily. Just enough that Sendoh could move quickly aside, avoiding the flailing sword, and bring Innocence down to sever its hamstrings with a vicious swipe. The demon tumbled, howling in rage, silenced when Sendoh took off its head.

Then he turned around and chose the next.

In a short time, working together, they came down to the last demon.

It had its back to Sendoh, concentrating on Rukawa totally, frustrated by his speed even while it was fascinated by _Akira's_ gentle glow.

Seeing the opportunity, Sendoh came forward and before it was even aware of his approach, put Innocence through its heart.

The curse rewarded them with that addictive rush of ecstasy as it dropped to the floor, black blood flowing. Sendoh shook Innocence to flick the blood off her blade but - he paused - it was still there. The nausea lingered. Eight demons lay dead, but the sense had not been quietened. Very slowly, he turned around.

He was sitting on the top of two stacked crates, watching them. Sendoh knew he was a demon by the sense, but apart from that, he looked totally human.

His eyes were brown, slightly sunken and undermined by dark rings against a sickly looking pallor. His hair was greasy and tangled, and his thick lips showed the most unpleasant sneering smile.

"Well, well," he spoke slowly, mockingly. "If it isn't the third. Rukawa Kaede himself. Sakuragi's little whore. How lucky I am today!"

Sendoh stood stock still in surprise. In sixteen years, he had never once heard a demon speak. They were mindless monsters, instinctive and simplistic. Animals. But this one, it seemed, actually had some kind of... personality.

Rukawa stepped forward a few paces, bringing himself closer to the demon, positioning himself discreetly between the demon and the place where Sendoh was standing.

Sendoh adjusted his grip on Innocence's hilt warily. It was obvious from Rukawa's quiet caution that this demon was much more dangerous than the rest.

"And who are you supposed to be?" Rukawa responded coldly.

"Minami is my name," the demon climbed languidly down from his perch, his limbs loose, long and spidery. He sniffed and ran his hand under his nose. "Sakuragi's lieutenant."

"Huh," Rukawa turned his face towards his right shoulder. With his teeth he gripped the end of the bandage and turned his head smoothly, pulling the knot apart. The fabric loosened, and then slowly fell in coils to the floor.

He shook his arm, flexing his fingers, testing them.

Sendoh watched him anxiously.

"Sakuragi's last lieutenant died on my sword," Rukawa continued, fixing Minami with a stare. "And the one before that..." he drew _Akira_ fully from its sheath with a hiss of steel, "...and the one before that, too."

Minami's grin only widened. "Just as you would be dead on Sakuragi's sword by now, if he didn't have... other plans for you."

Rukawa's eyes narrowed. He was irritated. The repeated sound of that name was affecting both of them. Sendoh's skin crawled unpleasantly. He found himself wishing that Minami would stop talking. He knew he was baiting them, but the urge to attack was incredibly hard to resist.

Minami was clearly enjoying the tension. "How I wish I could have seen you as you were back then..." he drawled on, sweeping his hands through the air in a dramatic gesture, his eyes glinting wickedly. "Glorious. It must have been." His right hand wandered down to the hilt of his sword in readiness. "Perhaps you and I can recreate the moment..." his eyes locked with Rukawa's, "I heard that they fucked you for days-"

His final word clipped short as Rukawa suddenly flew at him, faster than Sendoh could see. An explosion of movement that turned the stillness of the alley into a whirlwind. There was no way, Sendoh thought, that Minami could block an attack that fast. Yet he did, and _Akira_ dashed uselessly against the demon's blade, the force of impact sending the two adversaries ricochetting apart. Rukawa's sandals skidded over the ground until he found his grip, and then went for Minami again.

Minami let out a gleeful bark of laughter, shaking his limbs and body like a dog flinging water from its fur. His two great wings unfurled from his back, and he was ready before Rukawa could reach him again.

They collided harder than before, the furious exchange of their blows filling the air like discordant clashing bells.

Sendoh watched anxiously. He wanted to help, to act, to do something. But it was meaningless. In this clash of titans he was totally irrelevant. He could barely even follow them with his eyes.

Rukawa was astonishingly fast. He was at least as fast as Mitsui, Sendoh felt sure. But for all that, Minami was no ordinary demon. He fought like a monster, deflecting Rukawa's every blow, and countering with dangerous attacks of his own.

Sparks flew along the blades as they raked together, the swords moving so fast they appeared like beams of light to Sendoh's eyes.

Then an ill-timed parry deflected Minami's sword awkwardly, leaving a momentary gap in Rukawa's defense. The demon pressed forward in the split-second of his advantage, managing a glancing blow with the flat of his blade, sending Rukawa staggering backwards. Minami leapt after him without pause, lauching a vicious swipe at his shoulder that Rukawa barely managed to avoid.

Rukawa's back hit the alley wall, and he lifted his sword desperately in anticipation of the coming blow. But instead of continuing to press his advantage, Minami stepped back, smirking, swinging his sword casually right and left, testing it against the air. "Come on," he goaded. "You can't beat me like this. Why aren't you using your full strength? Why this..." he sneered, "...miserable half-form? You fight like a dog with three legs," he let out a laugh.

His eyes slid over to Sendoh. A moment. And then a most disturbing amusement crossed his face. "Oh, I _see_. It's because of the mortal, isn't it? He doesn't know, does he? He doesn't know... what you are." His smile widened. "I can solve that little dilemma for you."

Sendoh had no time to react. Before he ccould even think, Minami threw his sword at him. Like a javelin seeking its home in Sendoh's throat. And although Rukawa was still between the two of them, he couldn't match the speed of that blade. No way.

Innocence was in Sendoh's hand, yet though he tried to raise her, his arm wouldn't move. His mind was spinning so fast that the sword seemed to come at him in slow motion. Yet his body remained bound by crude biology and inflexible physics.

He tried desperately to move, to block the projectile somehow, but his limbs moved like lead through water. He simply wasn't fast enough. Compared with Minami's speed he might as well have been a statue.

He could do nothing. He was going to die.

He closed his eyes. Or perhaps he only blinked. Time was strange, and he couldn't really tell.

He heard a snap, like a whip catching the air, and he thought - _this is it!_

But the sword didn't reach him. He waited a moment longer, but the pain and the blackness didn't come. Uncertainly, he opened his eyes.

There was a barrier. Black, like a sheet, that had appeared in front of him, blocking his view. The sword was stuck right through it, making a hole - a big ragged gash. There was liquid, dull and grey, seeping over the blade and dripping to the floor. Sendoh blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

Not a sheet. He could see it now. Leathery and mottled. A wing. It was a wing.

Minami? No. Impossible. He could still hear his laughter, and he sounded very far away. Everything, in fact, seemed distant and far at that moment.

Sendoh's eyes traced the hard bone that formed the spine of the wing, the long finger-bones that stretched the ugly membrane taut, the scars that peppered the surface. His gaze roamed downwards, towards the shoulders and the body of the demon to whom it belonged.

To whom it-

The demon that-

He stared.

He didn't-

How-?

Minami's laughter. And silence. Ear-ringing silence.

In between the slow thudding of Sendoh heartbeat, the ugly truth twisted through his awareness like a wrung cloth. Turning this way and that. Screwed up into a tight, twisted cord that threatened to choke him. But it was right in front of his eyes. How could he deny it? It was plain to see.

 _Rukawa Kaede was himself a demon._

Should he not believe it, not want it to be true, what difference would that make? He had thought... no... what did it matter what he had thought? He had been wrong. That was all. Wrong. Wrong. Sickeningly wrong.

And Minami was still laughing. He was laughing, Sendoh realised, at him. At whatever expression Sendoh's face must have been showing at that moment.

Rage, sudden, hot and violent, rose in Sendoh. A monster he could no longer control. The sound of Minami's laughter was more than he could bear at that moment. He wanted to throw himself at him. He wanted to put his sword right through one of Minami's sickly sunken eyes.

But before he could move, the wings before him clapped together, blasting him with a zephyr of air that sent him physically falling backwards.

Minami was bending down to retrieve another sword from one of his fallen brethren, but he never reached it. Rukawa's sandal caught him across the face and sent him flying backwards into the crates in an explosion of shattered wood. He barely had time to look back up before the blue ribbon of Rukawa's sword was upon him, passing through, severing his upper and lower body clean in two. Minami looked astonished, his mouth formed a vague 'o' of disbelief. Then his shoulders and torso slid sideways, slow at first, then tumbling to the floor in a flood of black blood, even as his hips and legs remained sitting where they'd fallen.

Rukawa stood with his back to Sendoh, his breathing harsh. The wings framed him on either side, heavy, solid and undeniable.

Demon.

Sendoh said it to himself. As if needing to convince himself.

 _Demon_.

Rukawa tried to fold those wings away compulsively, as if he wanted to hide them. The right vanished without a trace, but the left was too damaged to fold, and though he tried, it only caused him to hiss in pain.

Sendoh clutched Innocence tightly, but his hands were shaking too much to even lift her.

Would he kill him? He had to kill him. Could he, though?

Rukawa turned his face to examine the damaged wing. The blood - for that is what it was - dripped ominously from his wing tip. Not red. Not the blood of a human. Not black, either. Grey. Why was it grey?

He turned around and met Sendoh's eyes.

He was frightened, Sendoh saw in that moment. An unexpected veil of fear was evident in his features. He seemed to be truly afraid. Of what? Of Sendoh? Surely not. What chance did Sendoh have against him?

He moved, much faster than Sendoh could react, catching his wrist in his hand. Sendoh tried to pull back, but Rukawa's grip was like iron. His eyes, close by, were wide and half-wild. He was discomposed, his fear so infectious that even Sendoh began to feel it taking frightened root in his chest.

"You have to go," Rukawa told him urgently.

Sendoh tried to scowl at him, to show some of the outrage and anger he was feeling, but Rukawa's manner was totally disconcerting.

"No," he corrected himself, his eyes flying fearfully left and right, across the mouth of the alleyway, scanning the black skies. "No," he repeated. "There's no time. Hide. You have to hide."

"What-" Sendoh began angrily, but Rukawa was already pulling him towards the back of the alley, shoving him roughly behind a rotting pile of timber. Then he shook his head in frustration when it didn't fully conceal him.

Furious, nervous, not knowing what was going on, Sendoh opened his mouth to arraign him, but fell silent when Rukawa drew his sword. The blade was inches from his throat, its familiar blue light chasing away some of the shadows, and for a wild moment Sendoh thought he was going to attack.

Rukawa met his eyes anxiously. "Don't make a sound," he pleaded.

"What are you-?" Sendoh retorted loudly, more angry, more confused, and more fearful by the moment.

Rukawa's eyes creased up sorrowfully. Then, to Sendoh's surprise, the light along _Akira_ began to flicker, and then slowly expand. Outwards it grew, catching them up in the light, before fading away again.

"I'm sorry for this," Rukawa said in a whisper.

Utterly mystified, Sendoh looked down at himself. He was fading away, he saw in shock. Disappearing, much like the bodies of the demons around them. He tried to lift his hand to his face, but it wouldn't move. Fearfully he realised that he couldn't move a single muscle. He was frozen in place and fading from view. He tried to cry out, but even his throat was paralysed. Only an anxious breath escaped his lips.

"Stay hidden," Rukawa instructed him urgently, "No matter what."

Sendoh felt furious, but he could do nothing. Whatever magic that damned sword contained had imprisoned him. And Rukawa - his pulse thundered heavy in his temples - this _demon_ , had tricked, betrayed, and trapped him here. And he was a fool. A goddamn fool.

At that moment the floor lurched under his feet and only the spell holding him in place prevented him falling to his hands and knees.

 _An earthquake_? he wondered, _now_?

Confused, his eyes looked out into the alleyway and saw to his astonishment that the ground was boiling like water, the surface bubbling and melting, steam rising in piping hot vents. The walls of the buildings stretching above his head began to lean and tilt wildly, looking as if they would fall at any moment. And then the pain. Like a hand had punched a hole into his gut and was squeezing his stomach. His eyes blurred with tears that he could not wipe away.

Rukawa had already moved away and was standing in the middle of the alley, the edges of which were now glowing white hot, the stone turning molten. It was as if, quite abruptly, this small and dank alleyway had become the host of hell.

And facing Rukawa, blocking the mouth of the alley, were three demons.

The two on either side were huge, brutish and muscular. One was smiling a lop-sided, murderous grin. The other was stony-faced. They were the biggest demons Sendoh had ever seen. Neither he nor Rukawa, who were both uncommonly tall, matched them in height or size.

But it was the demon in the middle who commanded the most attention. He wore a long cloak that covered his head and left his face in shadow. Under his feet the floor was bubbling and hissing. Even the air around him seemed to be super-heated so that his image rippled and changed before Sendoh's eyes. One moment he was dwarfed by his two companions. The next, he was taller than either of them. Reality distorted around him. He was an unnatural concentration of power, so dense that the world could not manage his presence. A well of absolute chaos.

Sakuragi Hanamichi.

He stepped forward, opening his arms as if greeting his oldest friend, ash spiralling from the tips of his fingers as they moved through the air.

"Kaede!" he smiled, his voice warm and honey-like. "I've been waiting."

Rukawa only scowled.

The demon looked casually about at the empty alley, the slaughtered demons, and lastly Rukawa's stony expression.

"Is this supposed to be an ambush? Where's Mittchi?" His eyes came to rest on Rukawa's ripped wing. "You're wounded? By scum like Minami?" he snorted, "Impossible."

Rukawa's fists clenched at his sides.

"How... incredibly disappointing," the demon said, and frowned.

"Still more than enough for you," Rukawa returned coldly, flexing his wings and setting his feet.

But Sakuragi Hanamichi only laughed. "Don't be ridiculous, Kaede. You'll never be enough for me. Unless you're on your back, that is," he smirked.

Rukawa tsked angrily and loosened _Akira_ in its sheath with one thumb. "Try me," he hissed.

Then Sakuragi Hanamichi lifted his hands and pushed back his hood. The face he revealed was young, roguishly handsome, with red hair that tumbled down his back in a long braid bound with a black leather thong. His eyes flashed yellow, his pupils elongated like a cat. Under the upwards curve of his smiling lips were sharp, wolfish canines. His expression was eager and excited.

"Ridiculous," he repeated. He swept one hand through the air which seemed to catch fire, flaring brilliantly for a moment. His eyes slid left and right to his companions. "Tetsuo, Ryo," he gestured vaguely, "hold him still."

Sendoh felt a flare of anxiety as Rukawa shifted his feet ready to evade them. They went for him in unison, both of them as fast as Minami, nearly as fast as Rukawa himself. He avoided the first grab, ducking under Ryo's arms with incredible speed, evading Tetsuo's lunge, but soon enough a weighty shove between the shoulder blades sent him sprawling. Then they were on him. He kicked and struggled furiously, but they must have been immensely strong.

The larger, Tetsuo, was head and shoulders taller than Rukawa, and nearly twice as broad. He trapped him forcefully against his chest, one huge muscled arm hugging him tightly, Rukawa's wings crushed between them. With his free hand, he gripped Rukawa's jaw, his fingers digging hard into either side of his face, and forced his chin upwards, exposing his neck. Ryo was there, directly behind Tetsuo, snatching Rukawa's wrists and pulling his arms back.

Rukawa gritted his teeth and struggled, but he couldn't free himself from their hold. He kicked at the air but it was useless. His toes didn't even reach the floor. Eventually, a groan of frustration and defeat escaped his throat.

Sakuragi Hanamichi's eyes seemed full of a vast and terrible delight, his smile was oozing satisfaction.

He stepped forward slowly.

"You're planning something. I want to know what it is."

His eyes were red, Sendoh noticed in surprise. Fiery and dangerous. His hair - he was so sure it had been long - was close-cropped to his head, as if he were wearing a halo of flames. With each of his slow steps came the strange sound of claws clicking against the ground and he began to peer intently around the alley as if seeking hidden clues. He sniffed at the air, hunting for a scent. All at once he was a wolf, huge and menacing, a growl rumbling from his throat, his fangs like rows of knives, saliva dripping to the floor only to evaporate in a hiss of steam. The slow click, click, click of nails on the stone set Sendoh's teeth on edge, his pulse thick in his throat.

He gritted his teeth, secreted there behind the timbers, paralysed by whatever black magic Rukawa had summoned.

 _Kill it,_ the sense demanded, like poison in his blood, sharp and vicious, stabbing him with every word. _This demon, kill it. Kill it. Kill._

But below that, beneath the sense, he could feel something else. More primal. More universal still. His own terrible and voluminous terror. _Hide,_ it whispered, then insisted, and screamed. _Hide!_

He felt as if two halves of him were tearing apart in silence.

After a tense minute, Sakuragi gave up exploring the alley, finding nothing. With a lazy shake of his mane, he changed back from beast to man in the space of a stride. His fringe was long now, a soft, silken curtain of red that fell over two honey-brown, sensuous eyes.

He turned his attention back to Rukawa instead, prowling to his side, considering him thoughtfully.

"Well then," he began with a smile, and stepped in closer so that their stomachs were pressed together. Rukawa winced.

Sakuragi pushed his nose into Rukawa's neck and took a long drag of air. Then he parted his lips, his breath hot and damp, and made a noise like a purr, his sharp canines brushing tenderly against Rukawa's throat, causing a small scratch of silvery blood.

Rukawa gave a low, warning growl, but it was meaningless. Held tightly by Tetsuo and Ryo, he couldn't move. But it made Sakuragi smile.

"I came here as fast as I could," Sakuragi explained, his voice low and soothing, reaching up to twist a strand of inky black hair affectionately around one finger. "As soon as I smelled your blood on the air."

His tongue slid out then, and pressed against Rukawa's throat, tasting the blood he'd drawn. Rukawa shuddered and a faint sound of disgust escaped his lips. Ignoring it, Sakuragi gave a slow and lavish lick from collar to jaw, his tongue appearing to lengthen and lengthen as he went, until Sendoh realised it was now forked and flickering along Kaede's jawline like a snake's.

"Ahh..." Sakuragi gave a sigh of pleasure, closing his eyes blissfully.

Rukawa screwed up his eyes, tears of humiliation beginning to collect on his lashes.

The feeling in Sendoh changed. Anger. More insistent, more red, even harder to control. This was not just the sense. This was... something else. Born from another part of him. He tried, again and again, to fight the invisible bonds that held him in place, but it was useless. He was totally immobile, as Kaede had intended.

This couldn't continue, he realised. He was going to break. Sakuragi Hanamichi was going to drive him into madness.

Yet he was forced to watch as Sakuragi trailed his hands lightly down Rukawa's chest, lower, lower, smirking infuriatingly, until he wrapped them around the hilt of Rukawa's sword.

"Hmmm?" Sakuragi asked in that same low, sensuous voice as he slid _Akira_ languidly from its sheath with a slow and satisfying hiss. "And what's this?"

He moved back a little to examine the sword.

 _Akira_ did not glow in Sakuragi's hands. It remained grey steel, looking quite unremarkable. Sakuragi turned it over and over.

"I've seen these before..." he breathed finally. "This is a sword of the watchers, is it not?" He looked questioningly at Rukawa who made no reply. Sakuragi frowned in thought. His eyes - now bright green and enchanting - flickered keenly over the blade. "What a strange sword for one of the fallen." He looked around the alley once again, and Sendoh felt a violent lurch in his stomach as those eyes passed right through him.

"This is old, old magic, Kaede," Sakuragi continued. "A sword that stores power. But it's mere trickery. Illusions, at best. It's not enough to harm _me_. Is this your plan? I hope for your sake you've something more than this."

He moved an arm as if to wrap the air around himself. There was an abrupt flare of bright fire and he was gone, materialising instantly only steps from where Sendoh was standing.

"A sword that protects a mortal slayer..." he continued, looking around eagerly, "...sharing one name..." he pushed aside a bunch of timber lengths as if hoping to find Sendoh behind them, "...and magic that can only be used in their defence."

He turned his head about, a growl of annoyance working its way up his throat. Sendoh could feel the heat rolling off him. Just his presence felt like a bonfire burning. "Where have you hidden him, Kaede?"

There was no reply.

Sakuragi's voice dropped low in warning. "I'm not known for my patience. Tell me now and I'll give him an easy death. A quick one."

Silence.

Sakuragi snarled and lifted the sword. "I promise you," he hissed, "when I find him, I'm going to take this sword, and I'm going to cut out his heart. And _you_..." his eyes fixed on Rukawa were hard and merciless, "...you'll _watch_."

Sendoh's breathing sounded loud in his ears. Couldn't Sakuragi hear it? He could bearly think through the conflict of his anger, his fear, and the sense. It was agony. It was utter torture. The opposing parts of him screamed at him, telling him to run, or telling him to fight, all at once, and all hopeless for he could do none of those things. He could do nothing at all. And the pain was unbearable.

Suddenly animated with impatient anger, Sakuragi threw the sword in a fury. It hit the alley wall and skidded off into the shadows. The air around him abruptly rose into a fierce, billowing fire-ball. The flames about his feet rushed rapidly outwards, across the floor as if it were coated in oil, his anger hot and terrifying.

Sakuragi stormed back across the alley, his eyes two infernos of rage, and forced three burning fingers right into Rukawa's mouth. Rukawa's eyes widened in fright.

"I can fucking smell him all over you, you miserable little whore," Sakuragi thundered right into his face, spit flying. He wrapped his hand tightly around Rukawa's throat. Tetsuo and Ryo let go just as Sakuragi pitched his arm and sent Rukawa flying through the air like a ragdoll. He hit the floor heavily and tumbled over and over, his limbs limp.

"Fix that wing," Sakuragi snarled. "I don't want you at anything less than your full strength. Don't you dare disappoint me again."

Then Sakuragi and his companions turned away to leave, Sakuragi's cloak snapping irritably, scorching the air.

Rukawa smashed through timber and collided with the wall, his head cracking sharply on a stone. He must have lost consciousness for a moment because abruptly the magic that had hidden Sendoh dissipated and all at once he found himself unbound and in full view.

His hand rushed to his sword, his fear overpowered by his all-consuming rage. He couldn't harm Sakuragi Hanamichi - he was fairly sure of that - but he wanted to. He wanted to kill him so badly.

Sakuragi paused momentarily at the mouth of the alley, perhaps sensing movement behind him. He turned his head and looked back, his long braid twisting in the wind, his yellow eyes going straight to Sendoh's face, his expression filled with amusement.

He gave a slow, indulgent smile, as if he'd known Sendoh was there all along.

Then his wings fanned out around him, huge and terrible, just for a second. Just one tiny glimpse of his full and horrendous form, then the air crackled with the heat, and he was gone.

The alley was chill and dark and damp once again.

The feelings, powerful as they were, released their grip on Sendoh and he collapsed to the ground, his knees weak, his hands shaking.

A soft groan sounded, and Sendoh saw Rukawa crawling out of the wreckage of timbers, wincing with pain from his bruises, dragging his one ripped wing against the floor.

He had no sword, Sendoh realised. This was the chance, he told himself fiercely - perhaps the only chance - to kill him.

But Sendoh couldn't seem to move. His exhaustion was complete. Just breathing, the air hissing in his throat, was all he could manage.

"I know what it looks like..." Rukawa's voice was unsteady, his breathing harsh, "...but it's not... what you think."

"You're a demon," Sendoh managed to snarl at him, staring at the floor which kept swimming in and out of focus, trying to hold on to his consciousness. "What else is there to think?"

Rukawa was silent for a moment. "You have more senses than... just your sight... don't you?"

Sendoh narrowed his eyes in anger. But although he hated to admit it, Rukawa's words were true. He couldn't sense him. Not at all.

"What _are_ you then?" he managed to hiss through clenched teeth.

Rukawa lifted a hand to cradle his head, his eyes closing tiredly, pain flickering across his face. "Please, give me... some time," he rasped. "I will find... some way to... show you the truth." He grimaced and clutched his ribs painfully.

There was ash, Sendoh noticed, smudged across his cheek. The marks of Sakuragi's fingers. That made him feel furious with himself.

But the single visible wing that trailed on the floor, the pathetic evidence of an incomprehensible betrayal, made him feel furious with Rukawa.

Finally, meeting Rukawa's eyes, and realising that the same torturous conflict that had so exhausted him was ten times evident in Rukawa's stare. Recognising that he'd had to hold himself back - _he'd held himself back! -_ to maintain the magic protecting Sendoh's hiding place. _Goddamnit,_ that made him feel furious about just about everything.

With an effort, Sendoh managed to haul himself upright. His legs still felt weak, as if he'd been running for miles. But he had to get out of there. He couldn't bear any of it for a moment longer. It was too much, way too much, to cope with.

"That sword," he managed to hiss. "That magic..." He narrowed his eyes. "Don't you dare use it on me again."

Rukawa dipped his head, too exhausted to raise a reply.

Sendoh turned and staggered away, leaving Rukawa on his hands and knees in that alley. He didn't look back.

And that was how he first met Sakuragi Hanamichi.

-tbc

* * *

 **ANs** : You knew Rukawa was a demon, right? Right? It's the title of the fic, come on, lol.

Love the HanaRu in this story. Super toxic infatuation. Sakuragi is so devilishly hot. Damn /fans self rapidly.

 **Major changes in this chapter**

\- Not a great deal really

\- Reworked into third person (as with all other chapters)

\- Opening fight reworked into another Sendoh solo

\- Reimagined Sendoh's situation facing Sakuragi (instead of hiding because he's afraid, he hides because he's forced to)

\- Usual minor edits all over the place


	7. Chapter 6

**Anita** : Thanks for your review! Uhm, maybe I didn't make the Rukawa-Sakuragi relationship very clear. Sakuragi wouldn't be interested in stealing Rukawa away. It's rather complicated. I think Sakuragi is possessive, and a bit obsessed, but also maybe over-confident? He and Rukawa have been trapped in the same vicious cycle for so long that he takes it for granted that they are bound to each other. So long as Rukawa hates him, and hunts him, then their link is maintained. So Sakuragi is happy to walk into Rukawa's traps, fully confident that he could never be defeated, and because engaging with Rukawa in the frame of being "rivals" is what entertains him. He relishes in the fact that Rukawa can't defeat him. That's what he finds arousing, I guess you could say ;)

 **Kaede4ever** : Heehee, thank you :) It was a lot of fun to write too! Some chapters are effortless ;D love writing Sakuragi in this fic. I'm actually finding hitting the senru harder lol, very unusually for me xD

 **Caro** : Sorry for the delay and thanks for your patience :)

General note to say that I'm back at work, back at uni (in the evenings), so my time is really really super duper limited right now. I can't promise a chapter every week, or even every month, but I CAN promise I am always working on this, always daydreaming my way though this, I'm basically living in this universe nearly all the time hahahaha. And, as always with my multi-chapter fics I can absolutely promise you that it WILL be finished. Eventually.

* * *

 **Demon  
** **Chapter 6 (version 2)**

The door opened to reveal a round old man with small eyes set in a prodigious face. He squinted out at Sendoh first in confusion, and then in disbelief.

"Akira?" he breathed. "You're... alive?"

Sendoh immediately felt chastened. "I'm sorry, I should have come here earlier but I..." he trailed off. What was his excuse? He had none.

But Anzai shook his head. "No, no, don't apologise. I'm just happy to see you. So happy, Akira you have no idea. Please, please come inside..." he moved inwards, leaving the door open for Sendoh to pass through, and they went into the small, dark interior together.

Anzai's home could not have been more at odds with _Yoku_. It was a tiny, one room building, cramped with low ceilings and darkness, cluttered with paraphernalia. Rolls and books, rare commodities and exceptionally expensive, crowded the place in piles. Local and foreign publications, old and new, the collection of a life-time. There was barely space to walk, still less to sit. Anzai moved a few teetering piles aside and gestured Sendoh in. He retrieved cups and tea from around a tiny stove at the rear wall, and sat opposite him, balancing his tea cup on a low stack of books that might have been worth more than the entire building. Sendoh held his own cup nervously, afraid of spilling even a drop onto the precious paper.

Anzai's expression was anxious for news.

"I'm so glad to see you, Akira. I was afraid your good luck might have run out but I see he hasn't abandoned you yet. You- you made it out, I mean, I presume you were there when..." his bushy grey eyebrows lifted, "...I didn't see it until the next day... I mean it was... hard to tell but..."

Sendoh dropped his eyes. He'd avoided thinking about what had happened at the tavern through sheer force of will, but sitting there in Anzai's familiar home he realised there was no escaping it. He was going to have to re-live it, sooner or later.

"Was it a gate?" Anzai asked unexpectedly.

Sendoh glanced up at him.

Anzai held up a hand. "Of course it was. When I saw the destruction I knew it couldn't be anything else. I never thought to see another one in my lifetime. Terrible, terrible things. Did... do you know if... anyone else happened to make it out...?" His eyes were hopeful, but Sendoh didn't have any good news to share.

Unable to give it voice, Sendoh could only shake his head.

"Oh," Anzai leaned back and put one hand over his heart as if in pain, his eyes creasing sorrowfully. "Oh, my... they..." his voice grew breathless, barely audible, "...they deserved better than that." He fell into silence.

The memories that swirled like dust disturbed through Sendoh's consciousness were life-long, comfortable things. So easy and familiar, like walking or breathing. It was strange, so strange, for him to accept that they'd never come back again. Those faces that had been his world. Blown out like candles. Those souls he had loved.

His earliest memory of Ikegami had been the night Sendoh had arrived as a rain-wet shivering boy with wide staring eyes. An orphan freshly made, his sense new and frightening, with shaking hands and a strange sword that was much too heavy. Anzai had welcomed him, but it was Ikegami who had slept beside him in the attic space above the tavern, their make-shift bedroom. It was Ikegami who had held his hand that night, comforted him, and heard him cry. It was Ikegami who had been there as the years passed, as they'd grown up, two boys, and then two young men, intent on finding retribution.

And Koshino, too. He was the son of one of the staff members at Anzai's tavern. And though he never really knew what it meant to be cursed with the sense, he had... cared. He had cared about them. It was so much more than most people would do. Always dependable. Fraught. Always concerned, worried, there for them both. Bringing soup. Complaining about the sores and the wounds and the danger they were putting themselves in. It was startling how Sendoh knew his face so well, how readily he could conjure it up in his mind. The contours of his frown, and the cadence of his voice. Almost as if he was there in the room.

And Aida.

Sendoh drew his recollections up short, blinking. No. Not Aida. He couldn't think about him. Not yet. He couldn't forgive himself for that failure. He could feel on his face again the wind and the ash that had whirled past him, borne outwards by the wind of the gate. So much - so much history, friendship, meaning, so many memories, so many futures, lost with one cursed flick of Sakuragi Hanamichi's fingers.

He ought to have tried harder. Been faster. He should have made it. He should have pulled Aida free of that light...

But something had held him back.

Sendoh frowned and sat up a little straighter, there amongst Anzai's old books.

He took an unsteady breath. "Actually," he said in recollection, "there _was_ one other-" he hesitated for a second, "-person."

Anzai's look became hopeful again. He tilted his head slightly as if trying to decipher the meaning behind Sendoh's words. Then he seemed to realise something. "Perhaps you are referring to Rukawa Kaede?"

Sendoh blinked in amazement.

"You... you know him?" he breathed in surprise.

"Well no, that would be going too far," Anzai considered, "I've met him a couple of times, but it was all many years ago now. A very unusual individual."

"You met him?" Sendoh leaned forward intently. "How? When?"

"Oh, well, let's see... the first time he came to warn us about the gate. Then, he came on another occasion to ask me for a favour. I don't know much about him, to be honest with you. He is interested in the gate, that is all I really know. It does not surprise me to learn that he was there."

Sendoh frowned. "I never heard any warning about the gate. Why didn't you tell me?"

Anzai fixed him with a stare. "Akira... that was the last time the gate opened. It must have been..." his eyebrows knitted together in thought, "...fifty years ago at least. I was just a child myself."

Sendoh was momentarily struck dumb. "Fifty years?" he whispered.

"As I said," Anzai's eyes were sympathetic, "he is quite unusual. But it doesn't surprise me that he's found his way into your company now. No," he smiled, "I'm not surprised at all."

"But... but..." Sendoh stammered, "... do you know... what he is?"

"That's a question I've pondered many times," Anzai put his fingers to his chin in thought. "I have my theories, but I really know much less than I would like about immortal beings and spirits. Well, I do believe that whatever he is, he is at least... benevolent." He looked at Sendoh expectantly. "Did you learn something about him?"

Sendoh hesitated. All the anger he'd felt had dissipated now. All his feelings of betrayal were meshed up with something else; his intense and profound confusion. And neither in his heart nor his mind could he seem to accept what he had seen. He yearned, with an intensity he found quite troubling, to be near him still.

In fact it was quite a singular agony.

"He is a demon," he said quietly.

Anzai sucked in his breath and held it for a moment. Then he folded his arms and leaned back to consider the ceiling.

"Now that... I did not expect."

"I wouldn't have believed it either," Sendoh shifted his weight, "but I... saw it. With my own eyes."

Anzai tilted his head to glance his way, his sharp mind catching the implication behind Sendoh's words at once. "You saw?" he pressed. "Didn't you sense it?"

Sendoh shook his head. "I can't sense him. I've never known a demon I couldn't sense. That's why I-" he looked at Anzai hopefully, "-I hoped you might know something."

Anzai put his hands on his knees and looked serious. "Akira, I am not a slayer, as you know. I have no direct experience of the sense. I merely seek to support those who are. I've listened to many strange tales from many slayers over the years, but a demon that can't be sensed?" he frowned. "I've never heard of such a thing."

Sendoh looked disappointed.

"But, is it possible? Hmm," Anzai frowned thoughtfully. "The sense functions much like any other sense; sight, hearing, hunger. Your body seems to have the power to detect something that mine cannot. Many slayers have described it to me as a residue, almost like dirt, left by a demon's presence. But as for what it is that causes a reaction in you, I don't know for sure, but I can say with reasonable certainly that the living flesh of a demon stirs the sense." He fixed Sendoh with a stare. "Can a demon erase their body in order to become invisible to you? Everything I know says it is not possible. If demons had such a power then..." he paused, and shook his head. "No, impossible. Besides, how would one hide the fibre of one's being? How would one hide one's blood?"

Sendoh frowned.

. _..blood?_

"His blood is not black," he abruptly recalled.

Anzai tilted his head and squinted at him. "Stranger and stranger. A demon with red blood?"

"No, no, it... it was grey."

"Grey? _Grey_ , you say?" He rubbed a hand over his face. "Grey, or was it... silver?"

"Uh," Sendoh hesitated, "I'm not sure. Does that..." he peered anxiously at Anzai, "does that mean something to you?"

"Perhaps, perhaps," Anzai shook his head. "Something in my memory..." he frowned, "I'll need to confirm. My mind is getting old, but I feel like I've read about that somewhere before. The silver blood, yes, hmm." His thoughts seemed to drift away for a moment.

"Anzai?"

"Ah, yes, of course, hmm," his eyes returned to Sendoh's face. "Why don't you come back tomorrow? Perhaps I will have found the reference I'm thinking of. If I'm right, if I'm right then... well... that is most interesting," he nodded to himself. "Most interesting."

Sendoh rose uncertainly to his feet. "Then... I'll come back tomorrow."

Anzai had already turned aside and begun looking through books in a nearby pile, muttering to himself as he did so.

Sendoh waited a moment before turning towards the door. It was just as he reached the door frame, that Anzai spoke out for a final time.

"Akira, what is your relationship with him?"

Sendoh stopped and turned back.

"Uhm-" he furrowed his brow, "-we fought together for a while. That's... that's all."

Anzai looked somewhat aporetic, and Sendoh wondered whether he had noticed the well of uncertainty behind his words. _That's all._ Was it, though?

No. Not even close.

 _There is something between us. I don't really understand what it is but..._

 _...it is undeniable._

 _I feel myself drawn to him beyond my power to resist. As if there were something of him within me. Or perhaps something of me within him. But... that's impossible._

 _I_ _sn't it...?_

"He is undoubtedly a very powerful ally," Anzai commented. "With the gate open, you could do much worse than have him nearby. But be careful, Akira. He not like us. I expect our lives must seem very small, and rather insignificant, by his reckoning. I don't know what he intends by taking an interest in you but..." he shook his head, "...don't allow yourself to be manipulated. Whatever plans he has, they have been long, long in the making. I cannot begin to guess how far he might go to achieve his ends."

He turned back to his books. Sendoh waited, but when Anzai did not look up again, he let himself silently out of the house and into the unfamiliar daytime.

He made his way back towards the river bank where he'd been spending most of his hours over the past two days, avoiding the city and anywhere he was likely to run into people, his mind full of indecisive, confused thoughts.

He walked a meandering route, paying barely any attention to his surroundings, while another evening gradually closed in around him. Sometimes the sense would prickle him, but no demons strayed close enough to bother him. He was far out of town, and the demons were few here.

As he paced, he thought. He felt restless. A different kind of restlessness to the days before. He had been angry, and then idle and despondent for two whole days after the incident with Sakuragi and Minami; after learning Kaede's strange and unfathomable secret. Now he was feeling impatient to return to Anzai and hear his ideas. The yawning chasm of misery he had been facing before had reduced now to a vague irritation. An unpleasant itch. He identified it only with difficulty; it was a small and dangerous hope. It made him feel anxious.

What if he was wrong?

 _What if he was right?_

A scowl crossed his lips.

He still had come to no decisions at all, despite wasting countless hours gnawing at his worries.

 _Kaede._

The picture Anzai painted was so strange, so at odds with what Sendoh knew of him. Otherworldly. Some strange and immortal creature. Not like us. The bizarre phrases Anzai had uttered sank and resurfaced continuously in his mind.

None of them seemed right. None of them suited the Kaede he knew. The Kaede he'd thought he'd known. A broken, wretched thing that, nonetheless, shone so brilliantly. Tormented and hurt and yet so much more than the meagre sum of his pain.

Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw him, as he always seemed to. That singular moment. His nervousness, his stare, his breath against Sendoh's skin. The way he'd flinched away. His reluctance - was it shyness? - no, Sendoh knew now, it had not been shyness. It was damage. It was the shadow of Sakuragi's fingers against his cheek.

Frustrated, Sendoh tried to re-examine all their interactions, looking for the ugliness, the manipulation, the tiny little clues in all the things he'd said and done that might reveal his motives. Perhaps reveal more of his deceptions. Anything that would give away his intentions. But although Sendoh could imagine and speculate wildly, he still couldn't grasp any conclusions with any certainty.

Instead he counted up the times Rukawa had saved him. Protected him. The tavern. The temple. The farm. And that hellish alleyway. Was it all some kind of elaborate trick?

"Damn," he muttered to himself. "Damn, damn, damn."

He could still remember the shape of him below the water. The look in his eyes. The softness of his skin under the brush of Sendoh's presumptuous fingers. A thing of absolute beauty.

Demons were not, Sendoh felt quite strongly, supposed to look like that.

They were certainly not supposed to make him feel like this.

He could not deny that he still felt the same as he had in that imperious moment. He still felt that same desire to protect him from the dark. To shield him from the monster that was devouring him from the inside. The pain of the aphesis that had driven him to slay demons despite the fact that he was one too.

And so the question. Always the same question, without end. Sendoh gnawed over it continuously, obsessively.

 _What is he?_

By the time he reached the riverside, the night was black and empty. A few feet away, the water gurgled quietly, invisible in the darkness. He fell back onto the grass, throwing his arms wide as if to embrace the dark sky above him. The dew soaked into his clothes and the dark stars watched him grimly. The dawn was still hours away.

Still the questions whirled unrelenting through his mind.

He had to stop thinking. It was utterly futile. He needed to distract himself, somehow.

He turned his head and his eyes fell on Innocence. Still beside him, through everything. Even now, when he felt totally alone, she remained by his side as she had been from the very beginning. His precious, reliable friend.

He drew her quietly from her sheath and set her down on the grass nearby. Then he spent the rest of the night whispering phrases, trying to convince her to fly into his open hand the way Vengeance had for Mitsui.

By the time the dawn broke, she still hadn't moved at all.

* * *

Rukawa pressed cautiously forward, moving in perfect silence through the trees. Winter was everywhere. Sad, bare branches, and the merciless chill of the air. He took another breath of cold and felt a shudder run through him. He'd always liked the winter best.

He pushed aside branches, stepping warily on dry leaves and broken twigs, lightening his footfalls. He didn't like creeping around, still less following Sendoh secretly, but it was easier this way.

He'd kept himself out of Sendoh's sight for two days, but never strayed further than his sense would reach. Shadowing Sendoh Akira seemed almost second nature to him.

Still, it troubled him severely that Sakuragi Hanamichi had caught his scent.

He pushed ahead and parted the final set of branches to look out at the hill upon which Anzai's small home stood.

Like Sendoh, who was standing several yards ahead, he froze.

Something was wrong. Even from this distance, it was obvious. He felt his heart drop.

He watched as Sendoh walked towards the door cautiously, one hand on his sword, his eyes fixed on the decimation. Rukawa stretched his senses as widely as he could, but if demons had come here, they were gone now. He hesitated, torn between keeping out of Sendoh's sight, or staying close to him. But the prickling feeling of dread that kept stealing over him compelled him to move.

He hesitated again and again, nervous of Sendoh's reaction to his presence, but ultimately he urged his feet forwards.

It seemed too quiet. Not a single bird or insect. Like the place was frozen in time.

The door was hanging from its hinges. Rukawa's feet passed quickly over splinters of timber that were strewn halfway across the hill side. It was obvious something bad had happened here.

He reached the broken door through which Sendoh had already passed and hesitated a final time. Sweeping his eyes left and right in suspicion, he stepped nervously through the frame.

The blood was everywhere. Dull and dark, pooled on the floorboards or smeared on the walls.

Rukawa moved further in, looking intensely at the scene before him. He purposefully let his feet make noise against the scattered debris, ripped papers and scrolls crumpling softly under his feet.

"...Akira..?" he murmured cautiously.

His eyes fell on the old man laying face up at the centre of the floor. All around, papers and pages lay spewed in a violent maelstrom. The teapot and cups lay smashed. He had been arranged quite carefully, his arms and legs straight and tidy, like a corpse at a funeral. But his face was an ugly contortion of fear. A round, bloody hole a few inches above his navel showed where they'd cut out his heart.

The floor near his head had been splashed with blood. Rukawa eyes were drawn to it. It looked like a pattern.

No - words.

No.

 _A threat._

Three elegant characters that could have been painted with a brush.

仙

道

彰

丨

 _Sendoh Akira._

Rukawa froze where he was, feeling fingers like ice crawling up his spine at the sight of that name in blood. He had to force himself to mask the nervous breath that stole like cold mist into his lungs. Sendoh himself was crouched beside Anzai's body, tentatively touching one lifeless hand. He did not look up or seem surprised that Rukawa had followed him. He did not seem surprised that his name had been so carefully written out. His eyes only looked into Anzai's face, his expression strange.

Rukawa waited anxiously by the doorway. Time seemed to crawl by. Minutes and minutes. But Sendoh did nothing.

He expected Sendoh's anger, his censure, his rejection, blame, and accusation. All those things he could understand. This was Rukawa's fault, after all. He was the one who had brought Sakuragi Hanamichi's attention Sendoh's way.

But Sendoh's eyes were oddly dull. His expression showed an exhausted acceptance that Rukawa found much worse than anger.

He didn't do what to do.

He wanted to speak but, as always, his throat seemed paralysed. What did one say? How did one qualify grief like this?

 _Can I do no better than stand here and say nothing?_

He felt the air in his lungs twist, his skin heat with the shame of his inadequate silence.

 _This man was like his father._

 _His second father._

 _Two fathers lost to demons. That... isn't fair. That isn't fair for anyone._

 _How could I... let this happen to him?_

He wished Sendoh would rage at him, tear him down, inflict punishment of some kind, any kind. He would fall to his knees and beg forgiveness if only someone would make him do so.

He bit down hard on his tongue. But there were no words. No words at all came to him.

Finally, Sendoh reached out to close Anzai's eyes gently. He shook his head.

"I should have known they would watch me," he murmured, his hand dropping heavily to his thigh. "I... led them straight here."

Rukawa's hands curled into fists. He knew he had to say something. His inner voice was shouting - wrong. Wrong! _You're wrong! This is my fault._ But he still couldn't speak.

Instead he set his lips and narrowed his eyes. Anger was easier, he found. Easier than comfort, or apologies, or anything real and therefore dangerous. He could allow himself to be angry. He could afford that.

He moved forwards and set his foot heavily on the floorboards beside Anzai's corpse. With one motion he swept his foot through the words on the floor, erasing Sendoh's name into a meaningless smear of blood.

Mentally he shut down his traitorous imagination that was already playing Sendoh's death through his mind, tearing up his memory of Sakuragi's vicious promise like so many pieces of paper.

 _I'm going to take this sword, and I'm going to cut out his heart._

He squeezed the hilt of Akira with all his strength.

No. No, no, _no_.

The sword's familiar coldness seeped through his arm like an old friend. A pleasant pain. He squeezed it harder, and shook his head forcefully to clear it.

"This will not be your fate," he heard himself say, his throat tight and painful. "I won't allow it."

Sendoh rose slowly to his feet. His stare passed right through Rukawa as if he wasn't even there. Unmoved and unassured. Then he turned away and brushed past him, moving out through the door back into the daylight.

A strange relief came over Rukawa. It felt like rejection. Something quantifiable. Rational. He could cope with that. If Sendoh was destined to hate him, he preferred to feel it with the reassuring certainty of a fist. Pain. And the strange comfort he could take in it.

It was, after all, the rightful way of things.

He lingered only a moment, looking down into Anzai's ashen face. Finally he gave a small inclination of his head.

"Thank you," he muttered to the old man through dry lips, "For all you've done."

Then he moved quickly to follow Sendoh outside.

Sendoh had found a shovel around the rear of the hut and was picking out a place to dig. He set to work, ignoring Rukawa's presence, concentrating wholly on the task of digging the dirt that would be Anzai's grave.

Rukawa watched. There was only one shovel, so after a moment of consideration, he sat himself cross-legged on the grass by the wall of Anzai's home, leaning back and closing his eyes, listening to the regular crunch of the soil, and the sound of Sendoh's breathing.

He forced himself to breathe slowly. Waited for the discomfort in his chest to dissipate. This was his fault, he reflected again. All of this had been a gamble that he'd taken, and it was wrong that Sendoh was the one suffering the loses on his behalf. He hadn't meant for this... but what difference did that make now?

He couldn't go back. He had to succeed. Now, more than ever, he had to defeat Sakuragi. There was no other way. There was nothing else he could do.

He struggled to hold back a grimace from his expression.

The task loomed before him like an insurmountable barrier. How many times had he tried and failed in the past? - more than he could even count. Why would this time be any different? It seemed utterly hopeless.

He couldn't defeat Sakuragi. It was impossible. He knew that, and yet-

He sat in silence for a long time until he realised that the sounds of digging had stopped, and he opened his eyes to see Sendoh throw the shovel aside and climb up and out of the grave he'd completed. When he went back to the hut to get the body, Rukawa silently followed him to help.

Between them they lifted Anzai gently and brought him outside, lowering him into the dirt. Rukawa hung back whilst Sendoh fiddled with the old man's kimono for a long while, straightening it out, fixing his posture, before climbing back out and retrieving the shovel once again. He still had barely glanced Rukawa's way at all.

Rukawa watched him for a while, his failures moving around his mind and through his vision like shadows set dancing by torchlight. They seemed to grow worse and worse, larger and more ominous with every moment of Sendoh's silence. He wasn't worthy, he knew, of being here. Of witnessing Sendoh's deep, personal grief. He was an intruder. Worse. He was the cause.

Finally he forced himself to speak.

"Akira..." his voice sounded unsteady. He cleared his throat a little, dissatisfied.

"Akira," he tried again, "when the gate closes..."

He paused, but Sendoh did not stop or slow, continuing to shovel the earth into the grave as if he could hear nothing at all. Rukawa swallowed awkwardly, and continued.

"After that... if you intend to kill me... if you need to take some revenge on me for all that you have lost then I..." he took a nervous breath, "...then I will give my life to your sword willingly."

Sendoh finally stopped, the shovel hilt-deep in the dirt pile. He turned his head to glance irritably at Rukawa. The first time he'd acknowledged his presence. "Do you take me for some kind of murderer?" he demanded.

Rukawa met his eyes. "I took you for a slayer of demons," he answered.

At that, Sendoh let go of the shovel and closed the distance between them in five angry strides. Rukawa had to physically suppress his instinct to evade as Sendoh's two hands on his shoulders shoved him roughly back against the wall of Anzai's hut. The back of his head hit the wooden panels with a thud, the breath knocked hard out of him.

"Are you saying you are a demon?" Sendoh demanded angrily. "Because if you are then I won't wait. I'll kill you now. Don't mistake me, Kaede. The only thing staying my hand is my uncertainty."

Rukawa's eyes widened, but he did not resist. His gaze took in the flush on Sendoh's cheeks, his intense and angry expression, serious eyes and drawn brows. The whole weight of his body was concentrated into those large hands that pinned him down. He could feel his pulse gathering in his neck, behind his eyes, hot and insistent.

He had wanted to feel Sendoh's anger, but now that he was really faced with it, he regretted it. Such a rare thing, so patently reserved, that when it came it was frighteningly heavy. He realised that he was standing on a very precarious edge. Crossing this line would be an irredeemable act. There would be no further explanation, no more negotiation.

Looking into Sendoh's eyes then, Rukawa believed he must see, and must feel, just as hundreds of slaughtered demons before him had seen. Cold ruthlessness. No mercy. The terrible anger of a kind and gentle man.

Whether or not he felt he deserved it, being Sendoh's enemy was not what he wanted.

The words once again seemed to vanish in his throat. He had no answer to give. His silence sat uncomfortably between them, weak and inadequate. His breath moved nervously over his lips, every inhalation causing his body to press against the heavy resistance of Sendoh's hands. He felt diminished and small in the face of Sendoh's will.

In that moment he felt strangely afraid of him.

Finally Sendoh let him go with a look of disgust that caught Rukawa sharp like a whip across his face. "I thought not."

Rukawa let out his breath. He should not be here, yet still he could not seem to drag himself away. It was as if they were drawn together, still. Two damaged halves of one great and terrible fate.

"Besides," Sendoh's voice continued, breaking into his thoughts, causing Rukawa to raise his eyes. "I'm not a fool."

He had already set back to work shoveling dirt with hard, angry motions, his back turned. "You're not..." he said between shovels, "...just some..." he tossed the soil into the grave, "...demon to be slain."

Rukawa waited, listening intently.

Sendoh paused a moment to straighten, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. When his voice came it was low, quiet, and laced with all the confusion he must have been feeling. "I wouldn't... care for you this much, otherwise."

There was a long silence.

Sendoh did not turn around. He continued to pack the earth in as firmly as he could, feeling a strange heat in his ears. Finally he stepped back to consider his work, thrusting the shovel into the ground and easing his aching back gently. The sun was sinking in the sky already, the afternoon growing old and tired. He folded his arms and sighed.

His right hand lifted to anxiously finger the corner of the book he had slipped into his clothes, hard and solid against his chest. He had retrieved it from Anzai's robe. He had no idea what it contained, but out of all the books in that hut, this was the one Anzai had been holding when death had come to his door. If he cared to, Sendoh could even imagine the way he must have paused his reading, closed the pages, and slipped it into the fabric of his clothes as he became aware of noises outside his home.

One corner was red and damp with blood.

Sendoh frowned.

He stole a quick glance behind him, but as he expected, Rukawa was no where to be seen. The place where he'd been standing was empty. He looked around more openly. The hill commanded a wide view of the area, but nothing moved at all. Still, he didn't feel like he was alone. He suspected that Rukawa hadn't gone very far.

He drew his sword feeling oddly irritable.

Standing beside Anzai's grave, he considered her sharp, straight edge. How did she not bend under the weight of so much hate? He had burdened her with so many vows of vengeance, so many tears, he felt sure she ought to crack. But Innocence remained true and sharp and eager.

Slowly he turned her, laid her flat across his palm, and bowed from the waist, offering her edge to the newly filled grave. He squeezed his eyes closed tight.

 _My family, my friends, and now you, old man. Soon I really will have nothing left to lose._

Kaede's words replayed in his mind. _I will give my life to your sword willingly._ It made Sendoh scowl angrily to himself again, and he straightened abruptly, his thoughts disarrayed. What the hell had he been thinking? - offering to throw his life away so casually, as if death would solve anything. To Sendoh's ears it sounded like a threat. How easily he could leave Sendoh once again totally alone.

Sendoh's fist tightened anxiously around Innocence's hilt.

He looked at the grave and could already imagine Anzai's reproachful voice. He slumped his shoulders and sighed.

 _I know I was too hard on him_ , he responded silently to Anzai's imagined rebuke. _When the time comes I'll make it up to him. I'll give him Sakuragi's head if that's really all he wants. It's obvious he needs my help for whatever plan he has come up with. I can support him, at least, until he has his revenge and then..._

He brushed his fingers against the book once again. Behind the printed leaves of paper, his heart was hammering fast. He shook his head crossly.

 _Perhaps I'm the one who needs to keep my distance._

 _In spite of everything I still find myself..._ he looked again at the place where Kaede had been standing, and sighed heavily, _...so eager to be near to him._

 _The truth is, as I am a slayer, I know he is no demon._

 _It has been my curse to know evil, to sense evil, to destroy it where I find it but..._

 _He... he is not it._

He closed his eyes for a moment.

 _Seeing him again has only confirmed for me that I was right. He is a creature of light. There is no other possibility._

 _That is what I know in my soul to be true._

 _Even though I still do not understand._

-tbc

* * *

Changes in this chapter:

-everything, complete rewrite.

-EVERYTHING!

Initially I was concerned that it was a bit "explainy" and not enough "action" but after looking back at the previous chapters I think maybe the action is a little TOO much, and the emotional aspect in this chapter might be a more welcome balance. I definitely need to devote a bit more time to the Senru and maybe this chapter helps to explain their positions a little more? Maybe? I hope?

Do let me know if I'm wrong xD


	8. Chapter 7

**Anita:** Ack, you are too sharp haha. You have already seen through some of the hints. Sorry that this chapter is rather long, but at least it (finally) goes into a bit of back story. Hopefully it is satisfying. Anyway, yay - into new territory!

 **Lyv** : As I said before, thank you so much for pointing out the inconsistency with Anzai. I'll go back and fix it when I get the chance. Very helpful of you x loves

* * *

 **Demon  
** **Chapter 7**

 **Warnings** : **This gets really rather nasty. Proceed with caution.**

After stealing a couple of apples from a distracted marketeer, Sendoh strolled down the main market street crunching on them hungrily.

He eyed the people around him curiously; ordinary folk - mothers, grandparents, kids, living their small lives, not even believing in demons. Walking through people always made him feel uneasy. It was the wide berth they gave him that he didn't like. He found it hard to imagine what they saw when they looked at him.

Was he imposing? Probably. Frightening, perhaps. A fighter; large, strong, armed with a long sword, and a way of moving his eyes right and left that was unsettling. Perhaps he even seemed a little bit mad.

He touched his face self-consciously. Did he have any scars? He couldn't remember.

The thought must have made him frown, because a young boy walking towards him saw his expression and hurried fearfully out of the way.

Sendoh sighed, and after that, kept his eyes on his feet. He hadn't meant to discomfort people. The fact that he did made him feel a little sad.

When he walked into Ashikaga, every single pair of eyes turned towards him. He ignored the stares and approached the nearest man.

"Is there anyone here who can read this?" he asked, offering the book.

The man appeared patently terrified.

"I... I think you're in the wrong place..." the unhappy scholar began to stammer nervously, eyeing the blood stained volume with undisguised reservations, "...my lord," he added, as a hopeful afterthought.

Sendoh frowned at him. "Aren't there scholars here?"

"Y- yes- but-"

"Are there any who can read this?" he repeated, and opened the book to the page Anzai had marked with a scrap of silk. A thick mark of ink had been dabbed across the paper, indicating a particular section of the text. But the writing was wholly foreign to Sendoh's eyes. Symbols forming words the likes of which he'd never seen before.

The man before him licked his lips nervously, "I- I really don't think..."

Sendoh's expression grew impatient.

"Find me someone who can read it," he snapped. The man gave an unbecoming squeak and scampered off. The rest of the students and instructors immediately looked in other directions, keeping busy, acting as if he were invisible. Sendoh crossed his arms and waited.

The man who finally approached Sendoh was short and sturdy, dressed in the same long robe that the academics wore, although a little untidy at the collar, and rather rumpled at the seams. He looked down his nose at Sendoh with disdain, despite being at least two heads shorter.

"What is this place coming to?" he asked, fixing Sendoh with an unfriendly stare. "Letting in the riff-raff now. What are you? A thug? A brawler? You don't scare me. I could wipe the floor with you," he rolled up his sleeves and showed his fists.

Sendoh looked at him in bemusement. After a moment he decided to ignore the question, and held the book out.

"Can you read this?" he demanded.

The short man paused, stared, and then took the book from Sendoh's hands.

"Maybe," he said cagily. He glanced at Sendoh again. "What are you gonna give me if I do? You don't look like you've got any money."

Sendoh frowned. He didn't have any money, that was true enough.

"I could take that sword. I've always said I could have been a warrior if I wasn't stuck here with these-"

"No." Sendoh cut across him. "Absolutely not."

The man scowled. "Well then it seems I can't help you."

He snapped the book shut and held it out to Sendoh.

"You can have the book," Sendoh offered.

The man snorted contemptuously through his nose. "This will take days, weeks! to translate. For the price of a book? A soiled one, at that? I don't think so."

"I don't need you to read it all, just... just this part," he showed the page, indicating the foreign words and meaningless scribbles that Anzai had marked.

 **и когда велась война небес и ада, так серебряная кровь ангелов падала на многие земли.**

"Oh..." the man squinted at it. "Well that's no problem. I'll write it down."

He readily scrawled a translation onto a scrap of thin calligraphy paper, and passed it to Sendoh who peered at it anxiously.

"Well? Is it what you expected?"

Sendoh was silent for a long while.

"Are you... are you sure about this?" he asked, indicating part of a phrase.

The man nodded. "Silver blood. That's what it says. No doubt at all."

"No, not that. This..."

Beside the hastily scrawled characters for blood, Sendoh's fingers brushed two others: 天使.

"Angel," the man translated, gesturing with his hands. "Big wings. Feathers. Clouds." He peered into Sendoh's confused face. "Do you understand what I'm saying? Are you a bit thick?"

"That can't be right. Couldn't it mean something else?" Sendoh pressed. "I mean, are you... are you really sure?"

"There's no mistake."

"But that's-"

"Not what you were expecting?"

Sendoh did not reply.

"You're one of Anzai's tavern kids, aren't ya?"

Sendoh looked at him in some surprise.

"Sure you are," the man folded his arms, "I'm Ryota. Ryota Myagi."

"Oh, uhm, Akira."

"How's the old man doing these days?"

Sendoh didn't answer at once, and Ryota stared curiously into his face.

"Oh," he said, and lowered his eyes. "Well, I'm sorry. That's... that's a real shame."

"How... how did you know him?" Sendoh asked, mystified.

"What? You think it likely that two people in this tiny city can read these barbarian languages and not know each other?" He shook his head. "He was a good man. A genius, I'd say. But totally fucking cuckoo all right. He was off his marbles for sure. But then the great ones always are. He loved this kind of stuff." He held the book out to Sendoh. "Anything about monsters or demons. I knew this was his book the minute you waved it at me. Here. You better have it back."

Sendoh shook his head.

"It's yours. You can keep it. I can't read it, anyway."

"Oh well that's kind of you, Akira," Ryota grinned, showing his white teeth, and Sendoh was struck with the strange sensation of being visible to someone. As if he was... normal. He realised that he liked this Ryota.

"I would have done it for free, you know. That old man taught me a lot."

Sendoh smiled. "Yeah he... he was generous like that."

"I heard that the tavern went down in a fire last week."

"Uh, yeah."

"It's been a rough week for you, I guess."

"You could say that."

Ryota gave him a hard, brotherly slap on the shoulder, swatting Sendoh's still damaged arm and causing him to wince.

"Come by any time," he said cheerfully. "You look like you can handle yourself in a fight. I could use a friend like you."

Sendoh couldn't help but smile at him in return.

* * *

He left Ashikaga feeling unusually light.

 _Angel._ He ran the word thoughtfully across his tongue and around his mind. He'd never seen an angel, or even heard of one existing outside stories. But if the demons were real, why wouldn't angels be too?

He brushed the hilt of _Innocence_ lightly. Even Anzai had said it was an angel's sword.

But... and he frowned... if it were true then why did Kaede appear in the form of a demon? Did all angels look like that? Were the white wings and all just some kind of myth?

He took a corner into an empty back road, his mind picking apart the possibilities, thoroughly distracted by the revelation.

It was at that moment that a burning hand seemed to knot itself painfully in Sendoh's stomach, reaching in and taking hold and twisting around so that he gasped, lurching forwards a couple of unsteady steps, his thoughts suddenly scattered.

A thick, strong arm came out of nowhere and wrapped tight across his chest, pinning his arms to his sides, and drawing him backwards into a strange embrace.

He gasped, suddenly weak and sick with the sense that was consuming him.

A teasing brush of fingers over his check made him turn his head to the side, his eyes watering with the pain, only to meet the charmed smile and wolfish eyes of Sakuragi Hanamichi.

"Hello, Sendoh Akira."

Before Sendoh could react, struggle, push himself away from the embrace and the pain and the feeling of Sakuragi's body pressed solidly against his back, the world disappeared.

His lungs turned heavy, unable to draw breath as if he were drowning. He couldn't move, flail, or feel anything at all. It was as if the air had solidified around him, a thick lacquer that paralysed him. He felt as if he had been entombed in the darkness.

Just his panic began to rise rapidly beyond his control, his feet hit the floor. Sakuragi's arm released him, and he fell forwards to the ground with a heavy impact, knocking the breath out of him.

The material under his fingers was different. No longer the stony surface of the road. It was cold, white and hard. He stared at it. It was marble.

He looked around.

The familiar city had disappeared. Instead, a marble floor stretched across a huge cathedral-like space. Empty. Marble pillars lined the walls, supporting a balcony which ran along the edge, looking down to the main floor where he'd fallen. But the space was bigger than anything he had ever seen. No windows. He couldn't see a door. But at one end of the room, on a raised dias, there was a throne. It was clad in red velvet and many times larger than any regular chair. It looked like a seat for a giant.

"I hope it wasn't too fast for you," the drawling, arrogant voice echoed strangely in the empty space. "I needed to outrun Kaede, you see."

Sendoh scrambled up, whirling about to confront Sakuragi behind him, his hand flying instinctively to his sword.

"Don't draw," Sakuragi told him with a mischievous smile, but a voice that crackled with power like a shock of lightning. Sendoh's arm stopped short involuntarily. "As cute as it is, I don't want to accidentally crush you before I've had a chance to fulfill my promise to Kaede." Sakuragi leaned forward as if to examine his face more closely, his eyes honey brown and amused. "You're like a tiny moth before the bonfire. Drawn to your demise. And I, your generous guardian, must protect you from yourself."

Sendoh glared at him. Sakuragi smirked. He was as large and enchanting to look at as Sendoh remembered. His appearance shifted with his moods, his eyes and hair taking different forms and colours as his emotions rose and fell. Yet despite the magnetic charisma in his pleasing face, absolutely nothing about him felt safe.

The sense was wringing its way painfully through Sendoh's consciousness, fierce and insistent. He wanted to attack him, more than he'd ever wanted anything before.

He began to move his hand very slowly towards his sword, hoping Sakuragi might not notice.

"What is this place?" he demanded, trying to keep him distracted.

"This?" Sakuragi opened his arms wide and spun on the spot, the long braid of his red hair spinning out like an orbit. "This is my palace. Where I do all my worst and favourite deeds."

"This is the demon world?" Sendoh demanded in surprise. A few more inches.

"Don't be ridiculous," Sakuragi tossed his head, and for a moment his eyes changed colour to a startling blue. "A butterfly like you would never survive a journey through the gate. This is only an illusion."

Sendoh glanced around again at the marble throne room. The stone under his hands had felt so cold and solid. It did not feel anything less than real.

"Why have you brought me here?"

"I'm curious, that's all," Sakuragi purred innocently. "What makes you worthy of Kaede's attention?" Sakuragi looked Sendoh up and down, a flash of green under his eyelashes. "I just can't understand it."

Sendoh stared back at him, refusing to look away, even though the pain that twisted and pooled in his gut only stabbed him all the harder for it. He fingers finally brushed against _Innocence's_ hilt and he narrowed his eyes, took a quick breath, ready to spring at him.

The next moment, this distance between himself and Sakuragi vanished, and Sakuragi's long fingers curled tightly around his wrist. They were burning hot. Sendoh gave an involuntary yelp of pain and reflexively let go of the sword. Sakuragi pulled his arm slowly away from the hilt, his fingers burning their way into Sendoh's flesh.

"Do not make me want to kill you," Sakuragi warned him in a low, dangerous voice, his eyes abrutly burning a horrific red.

Sendoh did not hear him, struggling hopelessly to free his arm from Sakuragi's painful touch. Finally, Sakuragi released him and thrust him away contemptuously.

Sendoh staggered backwards, clutching his burnt wrist, and glared up at Sakuragi angrily.

"I'm not afraid of you," he snarled.

Sakuragi smiled widely, his red eyes fading back to brown.

"Ah, yes. Pride. Your beautiful pride. Cling to it. Protect it, if you can. The more you have, the more spectacular the moment when you break. I do hope you've as much mettle as you pretend. I'd hate to be disappointed. Look down."

Sendoh's eyes flashed compulsively downwards. Fixed to the floor between his feet was a metal ring, shiny as silver, small and seemingly inconsequential. The only one of it's kind in this huge cavernous space.

"What's that?" he demanded.

"All I need," Sakuragi explained with a grin, "to turn a proud and handsome man like you into a dog."

Sendoh looked up just in time to see Sakuragi casually wave his hand.

At once, before Sendoh could react, familiar tendrils of darkness appeared as if from nowhere, coiling tightly around his neck, causing him to choke. His hands flew up to pull at the stuff that had formed like a noose around his neck, but his fingers passed straight through it. _What-_?

The other end of the dark rope threaded itself through the silver ring and pulled taut. For a moment, Sendoh resisted the force pulling him, but not for long. He was dragged to the floor, the length of the rope reducing to no more than an inch. There was barely enough slack even to raise himself onto his hands and knees. The pressure on his throat did not relent, his breath reduced to a struggling wheeze. He couldn't even raise his head enough to see Sakuragi any more. Only the cold white marble floor filled his vision.

"Well then," he heard Sakuragi's voice above him, and one of his sandals slid into his view. Sendoh set his palms flat against the floor and tried to pull back with all his strength, but the rope would not relent. He couldn't lift his head at all.

"I am very keen to open you up and see just what sort of stuff you are really made of, Sendoh Akira."

The feet shifted their position as Sakuragi crouched down and Sendoh felt large, powerful hands begin to stroke his hair softly, as if he were a pet.

The contact made Sendoh shudder.

"I doubt Kaede will be able to find us for an hour or so. That's plenty of time for us to play together. Why don't we begin?"

The smell of burning caught Sendoh's attention. He twisted his head around as far as he could and caught sight of his own clothes smouldering at the edges, a mesmerising line of heat crackling up the fibres of his sleeve, leaving only ash in its wake. This time he felt no heat on his skin, but with each moment that passed, a little more of his clothing disintegrated before his eyes, leaving his skin bare.

His mind went strangely empty. _He can't... be serious?_

The chill of the stone and the air became more and more noticeable as more and more of his body was uncovered to Sakuragi's eager eyes. He could feel the cold marble all across his front, his arms, his legs, his chest and stomach pressed bare against it. He shivered.

"Hmmm," Sakuragi considered, the feet moving away, the sounds of his footsteps walking a full circle around Sendoh. Unexpected hot fingers traced up the back of Sendoh's thigh, causing Sendoh to jerk himself away. Sakuragi's tone was amused. "You're a very handsome man, Sendoh Akira. A body like this... ah..." he sighed theatrically, "...you're like a feast before my eyes. How can I resist?"

Sakuragi bent down and ran his sharp nails gently down Sendoh's bare back, causing Sendoh's skin to rise in goosebumps.

"What do you think you're doing?" Sendoh snarled angrily, but Sakuragi ignored him.

If he wasn't facing downwards, he would have been able to resist. He could kick, or push, or bite. But he had no way of fighting an enemy who was behind him. His hands were not bound, and yet the tight noose around his neck effectively left him defenseless. Doubtless, Sakuragi had known that.

"You can't do this," Sendoh growled, his voice strained slightly as the nails racked lower and lower, inch by inch, tracing the rise of his buttocks, edging towards the valley between.

"Don't-!" he couldn't hold back his anxious exclamation as the fingers slipped downward into the crevice, his nerves getting the better of him. Miraculously, the fingers withdrew.

"Do you think your pride will save you?" Sakuragi asked curiously. He leaned forward, his handsome face appearing in Sendoh's line of vision, pressing his own cheek to the cold floor, his red fringe splayed out, a soft halo against the marble. His brown eyes bored into Sendoh's, his lips still curved upwards in the same amused grin. "Do you think Kaede's pride saved him?"

Sendoh stared at him.

 _...Kaede?_

"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded crossly. But his throat had already tightened. He was afraid that he already knew.

Sakuragi let out a laugh and sat back up so Sendoh could no longer see him. "Imagine this place, filled with demons..." he began, and as if in response to his words, Sendoh saw with his own eyes precisely as Sakuragi described. Demons appeared, out of no where, all around him. Their feet were mostly all he could see, but the closest ones were reaching out towards him, seeking to clutch at his naked flesh with their hands. He could see their sharp teeth, their eyes glinting cruelly, thin trails of saliva that escaped the corner of their mouths. He took an instinctive rush of breath in alarm, but the demons did not move, and his sense did not react. They appeared to be like statues, frozen in time, an image overlaid upon the room. A illusion, he recalled. Still, he shuffled himself away impulsively from the arms that reached for him, totally unsettled by the hungry look in those wicked eyes.

"These are my memories," Sakuragi explained. "And this was my legion. Do you know how many there are?" Sakuragi paused briefly. "Two hundred and forty two," he revealed when Sendoh said nothing. "Exactly two hundred and forty two. Now I know that you think I am to blame for Kaede's fall, and perhaps you are right. I've heard all the stories. They like to say that I raped him. At least, that is how the story is told nowadays. But in my defense, I want to you know that although I had a little fun - of course I did, that's only natural - but for the most part..." his footsteps began to retreat, and Sendoh managed to lift his head just enough to observe Sakuragi throw himself casually onto his velvet throne, leaning back and putting his legs up on one golden arm, ankles crossed, looking down at Sendoh naked on the floor before him, "...for the most part I just sat here and watched them fight over who would fuck him next."

He smiled the most wicked, evil smile Sendoh could imagine, his eyes glowing pitch black.

Sendoh felt his emotions suspended. They teetered, uncertain, mired in his total disbelief. It was far beyond his comprehension. The meaning of Sakuragi's words - the truth of Kaede's aphesis - overwhelmed him.

He took an unsteady breath.

"You're a fucking monster," he managed to spit.

"Oh, Sendoh Akira," Sakuragi said sympathetically, lowering his legs and leaning forwards intently, "I am _so_ much worse than that."

Sendoh renewed his struggles against the binds that held him, but it remained futile. His eyes fell again on the frozen image of the demon nearby, reaching for him, terrifying and hungry. _No_ , he realised, _it is reaching for Kaede. This is just a shadow, a mere memory, of what happened to him._

 _...it... really happened..._

 _...he..._

His thoughts were cut short as Sakuragi's fingers took hold of his chin and forced his neck painfully back, so Sendoh found himself staring into those hungry blue eyes once again. The sharp pain that flashed through his gut was agonising. He let out an involuntary gasp, and Sakuragi frowned. "No, no," he reprimanded him gently. "Not yet. I've not even started yet." With his thumb he traced the shape of Sendoh's cheek and jaw. "Don't you know that it was hours before Kaede started to scream? And two whole days before he began to beg for mercy." A shudder of pleasure ran through Sakuragi's body at the recollection.

Sendoh felt like all his energy to resist had drained out of him. His thoughts seemed to curl in upon themselves. His own fear for his own vulnerable position retreated, and he was filled with an overwhelming sadness. His eyes moved past Sakuragi's arm and focused on the ring and the black rope that bound him. He felt like his stomach had filled with grief. Like a part of his heart had been wrenched out.

 _Kaede I... I'm so sorry I... should have been more... aware..._

 _I didn't know... I didn't even stop to think._

 _And I was so... unkind to you..._

"...why...?" he whispered weakly. "Why would you... do that to him?"

Sakuragi looked thrilled that the question had been asked. "Because I can, Sendoh Akira," he explained. "In all the long history of the worlds there has only ever been one demon who was powerful enough to hunt down an angel. And I am that one."

 _An angel._

Sendoh frowned.

 _...it is true then._

His sadness redoubled.

Sakuragi smiled, "Do you want to hear something ironic? Every single demon here was drawn by the curiosity of seeing an angel. But do you know what happened to them?"

Sendoh had no energy to raise a reply, and only waited for him to continue.

"On the fourth day..." Sakuragi looked around at them all. "...on the fourth day, every single one of them was slain by one." He grinned a mad and murderous smile.

The scene around Sendoh changed along with the meanderings of Sakuragi's mind. The demons reaching, pushing forwards, fighting among themselves, vanished, and a scene of slaughter took its place. The black blood stretched the entire length of the floor. The bodies lay in piles, missing limbs, eyes, and organs. Sendoh didn't need to count to know that there were two hundred and forty two bodies. The massacre was complete and total.

Sendoh swallowed dryly.

"Kaede... killed them?"

Sakuragi laughed, a huge sound from the depths of his gut. "Don't be ridiculous, Kaede couldn't fucking move. No. This is the work of the one they call The First. The first angel to fall."

Sendoh's eyes widened in realisation.

 _The first?_

"Mitsui," he muttered.

A strange feeling of the most profound gratitude flooded through him. _Mitsui came to find him; Mitsui... saved him._ The thought filled him with relief. _Thank you_ , he found himself praying silently, _thank you, thank you, thank you_.

Sakuragi gestured thoughtfully, "If I had crossed swords with Mitsui on that day..." he frowned slightly, "...I cannot say for sure which of us would have been the victor."

Sendoh felt a wild, irrational hope. "You mean Mitsui is strong enough to defeat you?"

Sakuragi sighed. "Perhaps he was. But I don't have to worry about him anymore. Unfortunately neither of them are any threat to me now. It does make it all rather less thrilling."

Sendoh felt an anxious twist in his gut. "Why not?"

Sakuragi shrugged. "Because they're no longer angels," he said simply, and his eyes turned back to Sendoh's face, tilting his head. "But enough about the past... don't you think you should be worrying more about yourself? You are still in my enthrall, you know."

Before Sendoh could ask more, Sakuragi shifted his hand that gripped Sendoh's chin. He cut off any questions by thrusting three fingers into Sendoh's mouth. With monstrous strength he began to force his jaws apart, opening his mouth wide, stretching the side of his cheeks until they ached, and pinning his tongue down with the sharp nail on the end of one long finger. Sendoh struggled, but still the noose would not allow him to pull away. He brought his hands around and gripped Sakuragi's forearm in an effort to push him off, but Sakuragi's strength was totally unnatural.

"Is it uncomfortable?" Sakuragi queried lightly, bringing his face down to within an inch of Sendoh's. "I can't do to you what I did to Kaede because," his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, "you wouldn't survive. But," his tongue flickered out, moving over his lips, "we can still have fun."

Sakuragi's tongue began to lengthen and slowly change shape. Sendoh stared at it in horror. The tip moulded itself into the head of a snake, winding it's way through the air towards Sendoh's open mouth, thick and wet, with two small black eyes glistening.

"No-" Sendoh tried to protest around Sakuragi's fingers, but only a meaningless groan escaped him.

The snake tongue oozed into Sendoh's mouth, intimate and awful, causing Sendoh to struggle in alarm. It was hot and pulsing, trailing slowly over his teeth, feeling its way across his tongue searchingly. It pushed further and further back, back, until Sendoh could feel the foul sensation of it entering his throat. His body retched reflexively, but Sakuragi was totally unaffected by the desperate attempt to evict him.

"Hmmm," Sakuragi hummed pleasantly, drawing closer, sealing Sendoh's breath with his lips even as his long tongue pushed its way further down into his body.

Sendoh squeezed his eyes shut, every muscle in his body shaking helplessly. His stretched jaw had become painful now, but Sakuragi's fingers were merciless, and he could not close it even an inch.

There was pain in his chest, and the thought that it was the snake moving down further through him caused him to panic. He swallowed, the sides of his throat closing tight around the intrusive tongue, making his sense of sickness even worse.

His eyes rolled back. He couldn't breathe. Sakuragi's eyes were watching him in amusement but he was less and less aware of that, as more and more of his existence seemed to contract into his mouth, his throat, and the tongue that was choking him. His fingernails clawed weakly at the marble floor, but made no marks.

His consciousness had begun to fade when Sakuragi finally pulled away.

He gasped painfully for breath through his dry mouth, his lungs sucking eagerly at the air, only half conscious. His fingers, raw and bleeding, spasmed ineffectively.

"What I want you to really understand, Sendoh Akira," came Sakuragi's amused tones, "is that I can do whatever I want. And there is no one - absolutely no one - capable of stopping me."

Sendoh could not speak. He couldn't seem to move. Not even the strength to resist.

Sakuragi did not release his jaw, while his left thumb ran in circles over his face, his cheeks, his lips, his nostrils. Then he pinched Sendoh's tongue top and bottom between his nails, and pulled it forwards, out of his mouth.

Sendoh groaned fearfully. The feeling of his total powerlessness ran bare terror through his mind, a silent mantra forming in his scrambled thoughts, _don't, please don't, please..._

Sakuragi's voice sounded close by, a hot breath on his skin, dripping sweetly like honey. "One more thing," he said kindly. His sharp nails began to dig their way down into the centre of Sendoh's tongue, and this time the pain was acute. Sendoh heard himself trying to scream out loud, panicked and desperate, but the noise he made did nothing to mask the soft sound of Sakuragi's voice which shimmered sweetly in his hearing. "Kaede belongs to me," he purred. "I strongly advise you not to play with my toys."

And then a sudden voice rang out.

"Sakuragi Hanamichi!" it called.

It was loud and clear as day, echoing in that marble hall. The hold on Sendoh's tongue released, and Sakuragi pulled away.

"No way," Sendoh heard him mutter. His touch vanished and Sendoh sank gratefully down against the floor. He struggled to draw several desperate breaths, trying to orientate himself, trying to control his fear. There was blood dripping from his mouth, trickling down his chin and making a small pool on the floor. He weakly lifted his head to see who was there.

The hall remained empty.

But Sakuragi was standing, seemingly looking towards an empty patch of floor. "You?" he demanded. "How...? Why...?" He turned back and looked again at Sendoh in astonishment. "Just what the hell _are_ you?"

Sendoh only stared weakly back at him. equally clueless.

The illusion began to dissolve. The ring and the noose around his neck vanished. The marble floor, the columns, the golden throne, all disintegrated before Sendoh's eyes.

Baskets of rotten vegetables, the stinking remnants of old fish, split rice and trodden smears of food appeared around him instead. The floor beneath his cheek was damp and grimy. Just a back road behind a market, where the vendors threw their rubbish.

Wincing, Sendoh lifted his shoulders and looked down at himself. He was fully clothed.

He spat blood onto the floor and looked up again.

A slim youth was standing and staring down Sakuragi furiously. He held a sword out in front of him, parallel to the floor, his right hand gripping the hilt tightly. Both his hands, Sendoh noticed, were shaking.

The sword itself was odd. It had been tied with red cord, knotted ceremonially so that the blade could not be drawn from its sheath.

The boy was stranger still. He wore an expensive, heavy kimono in bright colours; delicately woven silk carp flashed golden against a blue background. He looked like a young lordling. He seemed totally out of place among the rotting piles and crates.

Nearby, Sendoh saw Sakuragi stare at the newcomer with undisguised astonishment. Very slowly he began to unfold his wings. Two huge spans, easily twenty metres across, making him look absolutely monstrous in that narrow roadway. The largest demon Sendoh had ever seen. Compared to the monster before him, the boy seemed like no more than a frightened whelp.

"You?" Sakuragi repeated again. He smiled. "No. They would never throw you away just to save one mortal." He shook his head vehemently. "You won't even draw that blade."

The boy's eyes narrowed. "I'm your opponent, Sakuragi Hanamichi," he insisted. The muscles in his arms tightened, and with an audible tear, the red cord snapped, and the sword was drawn an inch from its sheath. The steel, Sendoh saw, was blinding, brilliant white.

Sakuragi stared at him for a moment, and then his yellow eyes shone with delight.

He reached behind him, and out of the empty air, drew a huge black greatsword. It was longer than Sendoh was tall, ugly black iron, abominably heavy. Sakuragi held it comfortably in one hand.

"It's been a while," he commented, "since I've drawn _Skipjack_." He smiled, "Are you sure you want me to take that virgin sword of yours? You're a real slut to want it this big on your first try," he licked his lips. "Does Mittchi know you're here, offering your ass to me?"

The boy hesitated.

Sendoh struggled up to his knees, lost in confusion, rubbing his heads against his neck, still short of breath. He stared at the two opponents facing off. The boy and his thin white sword looked like a mere matchstick before Sakuragi's huge build. It was ridiculous to the point of comical.

The boy shifted his weight. His expression had turned rather anxious. He swallowed, and then narrowed his eyes, visibly steeling himself for the task before him.

Then, slowly, two wings fanned out gently behind him

The sight caused Sendoh's heart to skip in disbelief.

Dove wings. Soft and shimmering. Warm. They seemed to be made of light itself spun into silken strands. They were not feathered, at least, not in the way that a bird's wing is feathered. They were far less physical, less substantial, than that. There seemed to be no resistance at all, as though they were made of vapour. They moved gently with the boy's breath; living and organic, but they were absolutely not of this world.

Sendoh gazed at him in astonishment. He was the most lovely thing Sendoh had ever seen.

 _So this is an... angel. A real angel._

A strange warmth spread through Sendoh's stomach. Just looking at him set a calmness in him. The pain in his mouth seemed to fade.

Then he turned his eyes and saw Sakuragi's expression. A hideous hunger. An echo of that frozen demon he had seen earlier. A look of eagerness. The thrill of the hunt. A spider watching a butterfly.

 _Run,_ Sendoh thought, suddenly afraid for the beautiful, delicate creature before him. _You can't_ _fight him. Run. You have to run away!_

But the angel did not back down, even though his hands were shaking.

Sakuragi flexed his wings ominously, and lifted his sword.

But before he could move, a strange whistling noise sounded. Closer and closer, louder and louder. Sakuragi's eyes turned upwards and Sendoh's did too.

Something travelling at an incredible speed, was falling towards them.

Out of the sky Rukawa shot like a lightning bolt and collided with Sakuragi with enough force to make the ground move, the blue light of _Akira_ smashing into Sakuragi's sword with a sound like an explosion.

Sendoh could not hold back his gasp.

With an eager grunt, Sakuragi faced down all the monstrous power of Rukawa's attack head on, and with one giant swing of his black sword, flung him backwards into the stone wall.

Rukawa landed feet first against the wall, his knees bending to their fullest extent to absorb the shock. He took only the slightest moment to adjust his grip on _Akira_ before launching himself back towards Sakuragi with one powerful blast of his huge black wings, his eyes blazing with anger.

Across the alleyway, the angel's wings vanished. His sword snapped quickly back into the sheath, undrawn, and he dashed over to Sendoh's side. He took hold of Sendoh's arm and pulled him up to his feet.

"You're bleeding," he exclaimed anxiously. "Are you all right?"

Sendoh wiped the blood from his chin with his sleeve and stared at him. "Are _you_?" he retorted.

The boy was shaking noticeably, his eyes wide, his breath short. He looked halfway to terrified.

A heavy hand suddenly dropped onto the angel's shoulder, and his knees buckled with the impact. Letting go of Sendoh with a startled gasp of fear he spun around. A firm finger and thumb gripped his chin tightly, forcing his head back. Two furious blue eyes stared down at him.

"Kiminobu!" the angry voice lashed at him, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Hisashi-" he angel gasped, shaking free of Mitsui's grip and taking a step backwards. "I'm... I'm fine, I just..."

He was short of breath, and visibly shaken. Sendoh stared at him. He didn't look anything like he was fine. Mitsui saw that, too. He ground his teeth in anger.

"Get out of here," he hissed. "Kaede and I can handle this."

"But-"

"I'm telling you to go!"

Sendoh's eyes flew back to the furious skirmish Kaede was waging against Sakuragi. Both of them were too focused on the other to pay any attention to what else was going on. _Akira's_ blue light flashed right and left, driving at Sakuragi time and again, utterly ferocious. Sendoh had never seen such an expression on Kaede's face. His anger was terrifying. Yet, every time, Sakuragi turned the whistling blade aside with intense delight.

Mitsui drew Vengeance with a ring.

"Hurry and go," he snapped. "Avoid the city and get back to _Yoku_. You too," he growled at Sendoh.

Sendoh didn't move. "I'm not leaving Kaede-" he began, but Mitsui rounded on him.

"You're way out of your league," he snarled, jabbing his index finger into Sendoh's shoulder. "It's your fault we've even here in the first place. If you were even halfway able to look after yourself..." he cut himself short and shook his head in annoyance. "Go with Kiminobu and make sure you protect him with every last drop of your miserable mortal blood, or I swear I'll kill you myself."

Sendoh opened his mouth to argue. He could not accept the thought of leaving Kaede behind with Sakuragi. Not now. Not now that he knew what had happened.

But Mitsui met his eyes and for the first time Sendoh noticed the faint flicker of anxiety in his look.

"Make sure he is safe," he snarled, and although his voice remained harsh, this time it sounded almost like a plea.

Sendoh looked at Kogure who stood silently beside him, listening intently to Mitsui's words. This strange and precious creature, he recalled, was the one who had saved him.

"All right..." he conceded finally. "...but you..." he glared at Mitsui, "you'd better bring Kaede back safe, too."

Mitsui anxious expression quickly hardened back into his usual arrogant sneer. "As if there was any doubt of that," he retorted shortly, and turned away.

* * *

The journey back to _Yoku_ was long, but Sendoh was strangely grateful for it. Every step gave him time to think. They purposefully took a difficult road through the dense forests to the north, avoiding the more direct route through the city, and the demons that lingered there.

"I'm Kogure Kiminobu," the boy introduced himself with a sideways look after they had slowed to a walking pace. "And I guess you must be Sendoh Akira."

"Yeah..." Sendoh answered distractedly, his mind elsewhere.

Kogure frowned slightly. "You don't need to worry, you know," he said, "about Kaede."

Sendoh glanced at him.

Kogure continued, "I know it probably sounds strange to you but, Sakuragi will never kill him."

Sendoh threw him a skeptical look, and Kogure shrugged. "It's true."

"But what about Mitsui?"

"Oh, he would love to kill Mitsui." Kogure took a deep breath. "But I try not to think about it too much. They're together, after all. He should be... he should be fine."

They walked in silence for a few more minutes before Kogure added. "Akira, I hope you realise that you're in the most danger of all."

"Yeah I'm... beginning to see that."

"You need to be careful. Sakuragi is powerful. There's only so much we can do to contain him."

Sendoh pressed his hurt tongue tenderly to the roof of his mouth. "Yeah."

"I know you want to help Kaede, but right now the best way you can do that is by staying alive and keeping out of Sakuragi's sight."

Sendoh glanced at him. "You're telling me to run away."

"I know it's not what you want to hear."

Sendoh crossed his arms and sighed.

Kogure continued. "This isn't a battle. It's a war, Akira. A long one." He turned his face towards him. "Please, all I am trying to say is for now just... put your faith in Kaede. He... he's going to need you before all this is over."

Sendoh frowned, and did not reply.

When they finally came to the tree line and peered out, _Yoku_ was in darkness. There was no warm glow of the irori behind the screens. In the gathering gloom of the evening, the farm and the house stood deserted. Somehow it didn't feel right without Kaede there.

"It's been a long time since I've been here," Kogure said softly, and stepped out of the trees onto the path. Sendoh followed him up to the huge silent house, feeling strange. It did not look welcoming to him today. The dilapidated, moss-covered walls and crumbling veranda were lonely and desolate.

Once inside, Kogure set the fire alight, and they both sat near to it in silence.

"Kogure," Sendoh eventually ventured. "Can you answer me something?"

Kogure raised one eyebrow at him.

"Why is it," Sendoh asked, "that you have the form of an angel, whereas Kaede... doesn't?"

Kogure frowned slightly. "Haven't you heard of the fallen?"

"Not... not really."

"Oh." Kogure leaned back and frowned. "The fallen are exiles," he told him. "Angels who have broken our laws, turned their backs on the council and the heavens. They are a very different kind of demon from the hellspawn you usually encounter. Usually much more powerful, and far more dangerous. After all, hellspawn are born to their natures, they cannot change what they are. But the fallen, so they say, have chosen their own path." He gave a shrug. "But the fallen are very rare. It is a strange angel that would chose a life of violence and death, after all."

Sendoh considered this for a long moment.

"So... you mean it's because they fight, because they are slayers that... they have... fallen?"

"That's right."

"But... they're not... _evil_." Sendoh protested. "They only slay demons. How... how can that be wrong?"

Kogure shrugged mutely, a quiet shadow moving over his features.

Sendoh leaned forward. "And... and Mitsui he... he _saved_ Kaede, didn't he? He... he only did it because... because..."

Kogure shifted uncomfortably. "He made his choice," he said quietly.

Sendoh stared at him in astonishment. "You mean they _punished_ him for protecting Kaede?"

Kogure met his eyes. "Those are our laws. Killing and fighting are the traits of demons."

"But it's... it's not right," Sendoh protested, appalled. "There's no choice. It's... it's _aphesis_. You can't control it, you _have_ to... I mean, there's the sense, and..."

"It's different for you," Kogure explained patiently. "Your aphesis awakens your ability to sense demons. Before that experience, they were invisible to you. But that is so not for us. We have always been able to sense them. For us, aphesis is a moment of decision." He pulled his sword from his waist and held it out for Sendoh to see. "To draw the sword, or to keep it sheathed. We all have to make a choice."

The broken red chord swung loosely from the knot, left and right, left and right.

Sendoh watched it swing, realising finally what it meant. Why Mitsui had been so angry. How close Kogure had come to disaster.

He fell into silence.

"I'm... sorry," he whispered, after a long moment.

Kogure shook his head. "You don't need to apologise." He put the sword away again. "It was my choice, not yours. No doubt I will be tempted a hundred more times."

Sendoh was about to reply when the sound of raised voices reached them. The outer door slammed open and Mitsui stalked in, his face revealing his intensely bad mood.

"I don't know what you expect me to say," he was continuing in a low, angry voice.

Rukawa reluctantly trailed in after him, looking sullen. There was a shallow cut across his left cheek, leaking a thin trail of silvery blood. He wiped at it irritably with the back of one hand.

In spite of the situation, Sendoh felt something in him lift up. It was as if the fire was brighter, and the house warmer, just for Kaede being there.

Mitsui kicked his sandals off and pulled his sword sheath crossly out of his obi.

"What happened?" Kogure asked them, looking up.

Mitsui glanced his way. "He wasn't interested in fighting," he answered dismissively. "He was just toying with us, as usual." He rounded back on Rukawa behind him who gave a small wince as Mitsui started up his tirade again, "Look, I can't stop you if you're going to insist on throwing yourself into danger," Mitsui's eyes were narrow with anger, "But Kiminobu?" He scowled ferociously. "How can you ask Kiminobu to take that kind of risk? And for what?"

Rukawa did not lift his eyes from the floor. Sendoh saw his hands ball into tight fists, but he made no reply. He never - Sendoh realised - argued back against Mitsui. Sendoh leaned forward, intending to say something - apologise, or thank them, maybe even say something in Rukawa's defense - but Kogure's hand touched his sleeve and he shook his head. The look in his eyes was clear - _better keep_ _out of this._

Mitsui looked like he would say something more, but decided against it. He turned and stalked away towards the bedrooms, still clutching his sword tightly, his lips set into a hard, thin line of anger. Kogure rose to his feet too, and with a sympathetic smile towards Sendoh, made to follow Mitsui. He paused briefly beside Rukawa and placed a hand gently on his shoulder.

Rukawa didn't look up.

"I'll talk to him," Kogure promised him softly.

"I'm... I'm sorry..." Rukawa managed to say through gritted teeth.

Kogure shook his head with a soft smile. "I'm always glad to be of help to you, Kaede."

His disappeared after Mitsui, his footsteps totally silent on the wooden floor.

Sendoh's eyes moved to Rukawa who remained where he was standing, his eyes on the floor, his fists balled. Suddenly he turned, a low cry of frustration escaping his lips, and threw his fist at the nearest wall.

"Fuck!"

There was an audible crack in his voice.

He was shaking, Sendoh noticed. His whole body trembling with anger, his eyes screwed closed tight.

Sendoh got to his feet, uncertain what to say.

 _Even if I tell him that it's not his fault... he'll still blame himself._

Rukawa stepped away back from the wall, and took a visible breath, struggling to contain his frustration. "I need to go outside," he managed to hiss, and turned on his heel.

He slammed his fist violently against the door frame as he passed through it.

* * *

Rukawa stepped out into the fresh night air. He took only a few steps across to the edge of the veranda, looking out across the dark rice paddies, squeezing the hilt of his sword ferociously, his eyes dark and angry, brows drawn low and intense.

His whole body was tense, every muscle anxious and tight.

He felt furious with himself.

He'd...

...for a few terrifying minutes he'd...

...thought he'd lost him.

He squeezed his eyes closed tightly. It hurt, with a feverish intensity. Hurt. He pressed his hand against his chest.

If Kogure hadn't helped him... he didn't know what he could have done. He might never have found them. That thought twisted in his gut like a knife.

He'd endangered Kogure - Mitsui too - and he'd failed Sendoh. Failed him so utterly that he couldn't bare to meet his eyes.

And after all that, he still couldn't even lay a single scratch on Sakuragi.

The coldness that seeped up his arm irritated him. What the hell was he doing?

Suddenly animated with anger he dragged the sword and sheath free of his obi and smashed the whole thing furiously against the nearest wooden roof support. It made a dull sound. Unsatisfied, he pulled back and swung it again, harder. A small chip of wood flew free. He adjusted his grip and swung again and again, battering the sheath against the wood, not caring for the damage he was causing or anything else around him. Finally, with a cry of rage he threw the whole thing - sword and sheath - as far as he could out into the rice fields. He took a wild gulp of air and was just about to launch his fists against the post instead when someone caught his wrists.

He teetered for a moment, off balance, and was pulled backwards into an embrace. Warm arms surrounded him, holding him tightly.

Rukawa immediately stiffened and tried to pull away from the unexpected contact, but Sendoh did not let him go.

"What... what do you think you are doing?" Rukawa hissed, struggling against Sendoh's hold.

Sendoh tightened his arms. The silken strands of Rukawa's hair tickling his ear. He breathed deeply, taking in the scent of him.

"Kaede, thank you," he muttered.

"Let go of me," Rukawa demanded, attempting to shrug off the weight of Sendoh's arms.

Sendoh did not release him, but dropped his head to rest against Rukawa's shoulder.

"When you came, when you helped us, me and Kogure I mean, I..." he tightened his hold a little more, "...Kaede, I was so afraid. I've never been so scared in all my life. And you..." he hesitated. "...Kaede I swear, at that moment you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen."

Rukawa stilled, his breathing unsteady.

"But it was my fault that-" he began to argue, but Sendoh shook his head.

"I've never known anybody who would do something like that for me. Kaede, I mean it, truly. Thank you."

Rukawa fell into silence.

After a moment, Sendoh added softly, "Don't give up now."

"I never said I-"

"You can beat him," Sendoh said. "Mitsui might not think so but, for what it's worth... I do."

Rukawa lifted his head slightly, his eyes fixed upon the dark farm, and said nothing.

"I'll keep hunting him, you know," Sendoh continued, causing Rukawa to turn his head towards him. "Until I kill him, or he kills me," he gave a small shake of his head. "Maybe it's hopeless, but I won't stop. But I guess you already know... what that feels like."

"I never meant for-" Rukawa tried to protest, but Sendoh cut across him.

"Right now, it seems to me like you need my help with something. And as for me, I guess you're the best chance I have to kill him. You-" Sendoh lifted his head fixing his eyes on the blackness, "-and that sword. Am I right?"

Rukawa swallowed, his throat painfully tight.

"I've already decided to help you, Kaede. You can rely on me totally. Even if it costs me my life... that's a price I've been expecting to pay from the very beginning."

Rukawa didn't move, and Sendoh lapsed into silence.

Rukawa did not know what to say. He became more and more conscious of the warmth surrounding him. Sendoh's strong arms, his back pressed against that firm chest, keeping at bay the winter chill. It vaguely alarmed him how small, and safe, and treasured he felt in that embrace. But he couldn't deny it. He felt warm. For the first time in too many painful years to count he felt like he could relax. Just a little. Maybe it would be okay to... just... for a moment... close his eyes and pretend that there was no gate... no demons to fight... no nightmares. Imagine that he was small, and inconsequential. A mere boy, nestled safely in the warm arms of his lover.

His hands lifted and rested tentatively on Sendoh's encompassing forearms. He leaned back a little.

"I'll... protect you," he muttered, "...somehow. I... swear it."

Sendoh let out his breath and closed his own eyes, turning his face so that his nose brushed Rukawa's neck, savouring the feeling of holding him.

"Are you hurt?" Rukawa murmured finally.

"Nothing serious."

"You're bleeding."

"I'm fine. Really, it's my pride that hurts more than anything."

"Yeah..." Rukawa dropped his head. "Yeah I... know what you mean."

Sendoh held him tighter in response.

They did not move for the longest time.

* * *

"Your wing hasn't healed," Sendoh commented after they'd spent what felt like hours hunting through the rice paddy in the dark.

"...what-?" Rukawa's voice drifted out of the darkness nearby, the noise of his hands searching blindly through the undergrowth stopping for a brief moment.

"Your wing, I saw it. It's still torn, isn't it?"

Rukawa didn't reply at once. Sendoh saw the outline of him straightening up where he stood.

Rukawa's voice, when it came, was so incredibly faint, Sendoh missed most of it. "...notice something like that?" he muttered.

Sendoh smiled to himself. "I saw it when you attacked Sakuragi," _and you were utterly phenomenal,_ he added silently.

Rukawa said nothing.

"Ah!" Sendoh's hand brushed against something icy cold. He reached further and curled his fingers around the familiar shape of a sword hilt, "here it is." He struggled to drag the sword free of the thorns as Rukawa came over.

Passing the sword back to him, Sendoh said, "let me see them."

Rukawa stared at him blankly for a moment, not comprehending, standing knee deep in brambles and undergrowth.

Then he seemed to understand. "No," he replied, his voice defensive. He turned to walk away, but Sendoh caught his arm.

"You need to take better care of them, Kaede," he insisted. "They give you half your speed."

Rukawa gave him a disbelieving look.

Sendoh sighed. "I can help you," he insisted.

Rukawa's uncertainty lingered.

Sendoh let him go "If we're supposed to be working together then, something like this... is just natural, isn't it?" He peered intensely into Rukawa's eyes, picked out by the icy starlight above.

"You shouldn't force yourself," Rukawa muttered. "You're a slayer. You shouldn't-"

"Do you think my feelings are so shallow?" Sendoh demanded. "You don't need to hide what you are from me."

Rukawa stared back at him.

Sendoh shook his head, took a steadying breath, and held out his hand. "Just... let me be of help to you. Please."

"All right, fine," Rukawa muttered, averting his eyes. "But remember, you're the one who insisted." He pushed Sendoh's hand away and made his way back to the side of the rice paddy, climbing up the steep bank, out of the mud. "Don't tell me later that you regret it."

Sendoh followed him, feeling satisfied. "I won't regret it," he promised. "Never."

* * *

The next morning, something caught Kogure's eye as he passed Sendoh's door. He paused, and then moved closer to peer through the small gap.

"Hisashi," he whispered, "look at this."

"No thank you," Mitsui answered, a look of distaste on his face.

"It's nothing like that. Come, see."

Reluctantly Mitsui look a glance through the gap.

"What?" he demanded dismissively.

Kogure pushed him aside and looked again.

In the far corner of the room, two slayers were sound asleep despite the morning light. Sendoh was lying on his back in a casual spray of limbs, his kimono rumpled with sleep. His arm bent at the elbow so that one hand supported his head like a pillow. His other arm was draped comfortably around Kaede's shoulders.

Kaede himself was curled up tight beside him in a ball, the top of his head and his knees pressing into Sendoh's side. He put Kogure in mind of a cat.

"Did you ever see Kaede like that?" Kogure whispered.

"Plenty of times," Mitsui answered disingenuously.

Kogure frowned at him. "I mean, when he's not in the middle of a fight."

Mitsui shrugged. "Maybe not. So what?"

"You know how he feels about them."

"Hn."

"Not even you would sleep like that."

"Don't make this about me," Mitsui growled.

"Well... I think it's beautiful."

"Hardly."

Kogure put his hands against the rough surface of the door. "Maybe this whole thing... wasn't such a bad idea."

Mitsui gave him an aspirated look, and Kogure sighed.

"Did you ever think that maybe this mortal can help him in ways that we haven't been able to?"

"Like how?"

"Help him _heal_ , Hisashi."

"There's only one way to help Kaede," Mitsui answered coldly, turning away "and there isn't a mortal in this whole damn world that can kill Sakuragi Hanamichi. And that's a fact." He folded his arms and stalked away.

Kogure watched him go regretfully, and then pressed his eye to the gap for one last look.

His gaze wandered over the unusual scene.

But the sight of the two of them pressed close together was not what had caught his attention.

Instead, it was that behind where Kaede lay curled, stretching nearly wall to wall, twin black wings extended to their full, dramatic span turned the centre of the floor into a vortex of darkness. They looked far larger than Kogure could remember. More so for the fact that Kaede himself seemed so much smaller, curled up against Sendoh's warmth. The long jagged tear from Minami's sword had been carefully cleaned and stitched shut.

Kogure stared. He could not remember a time that Kaede had revealed his full form willingly.

Sendoh shifted slightly in his sleep, his head falling to the side, tenderly tightening his hold on the strange devilish creature in his embrace. Kaede's sleepy hands knotted themselves tighter into his clothes in response.

Kogure couldn't help but smile a little.

"I'm not so sure, Hisashi," he whispered to himself. "I'm not so sure."

 **-tbc**

* * *

OMG phew that is a LONG chapter. Well done for making it this far.

That final scene - ahhhh. I can see it in my mind's eye so clearly. The texture of the tatami, the pattern on the kimonos, the morning light on their faces, Kaede's bare feet, and then those the huge black wings. Moments like this make me wish I could draw. Unfortunately I have zero talent in that area at all. Sigh.

Reviews? Please? ;_; _Please_?


	9. Chapter 8

**Anita & Kaede4ever: **I'm so sorry for the delay! I'm writing this as fast as my muses will let me lol. Thank you so so much for your continued support, it means so much x

* * *

 **Demon  
** **Chapter 8**

The grass was trampled, dull and greyish in the wintry morning light. It was not a scene of optimism. Instead there was a strange sense of futility. Winter was not supposed to be the time for warmth, for hope, for joy. Such it was at the estate of _Yoku_ on this day.

Sendoh felt cold. He put his arms around himself even as he stood on the veranda looking out at this new day, although the routines, dull and tired, and the prevailing sense of repetitive senselessness, continued. They were all of them still trapped in this cycle. Revenge. Blood lust. Hatred. That was all that defined them. For sixteen years, Akira had been driven by the same urges. Primal. Insistent. He had no life except killing them. He had no _purpose_ except killing them. That was all he was, all he had been reduced to. And now, seeing so close by the same miserable existence enslaving these immortal lives he was made more aware than ever of the sad, senseless waste that it was.

And now, strange as it was, he found himself living… among their number. Allies, even, one might say. Back again at this place, this mansion, this farm, this lopsided relic of long, wasted lives.

He hadn't expected to return here, still less to live here, but it seemed there was no other place in a world like this for a man like him.

True, they were not demons of the sort that he had known and hunted but, he had realised, it was a naive fantasy to call them anything else. He'd realised it when he'd been confronted by the full shape of Kaede's form last night. That which Kaede had tried so hard to keep hidden from him, finally unfurled and factual right before Sendoh's eyes.

It was undeniable what he was.

Kaede had sat, stiff and awkward, like an iron rod was running down his spine, flinching visibly at even the lightest touch of Sendoh's fingers, his eyes closed as if he couldn't bear to see.

Sendoh, for his part, had never touched a demon wing before. It was surprisingly soft, pliable, textured leather. Mottled and sickly looking. Dramatic, perhaps. But there was nothing lovely about it. It was an evil, ugly thing. A malformation, unpleasant and unappealing.

Could Sendoh pretend he didn't mind? That it didn't affect him? No. That wouldn't be true at all. He'd spent so much of his life hating precisely this thing. How could he ignore it? It was Kaede. Yes. This boy who could certainly be described as _benevolent_ , as Anzai had said. To whom Sendoh owed his life more than once. But he'd known Kaede only a matter of days and the habits of years could not so easily be washed away.

Still he'd worked hard to hide any feeling of revulsion he may have felt. It was obvious that Kaede struggled with it the same as he did. He didn't want to make him feel any worse. It had been Sendoh's request to see them, at any rate.

Now he cast his eyes out over the cold morning farm and sighed a little. It was a little hard to work out his own feelings on the matter. He went a little dizzy just thinking about it.

He couldn't sense them, at least there was that to be thankful for. And when he couldn't see those huge, terrible wings, it was very easy to forget about them. So Kaede was just Kaede... most of the time.

But there was something else different today. The boy. But not a boy. Not really a boy. Something heavenly and lovely, come among them here for a brief moment, broken sinners that they were. This Kogure Kiminobu.

Sendoh couldn't help but watch him. He was a thing of real beauty. His face remained somehow untouched by the coldness, the sorrow, the despairs of creeping winter. He, and he alone, seemed to be something warm. Something whole. Something good.

Was it illusionary? Sendoh wondered at it. Was he, as he appeared to be, a thing of pure light? Then what shadows had brought him here, to this sorry place? The rundown old house, the broken farm, the company of his so-called brothers who were themselves quite his opposite. As he was light they were mired in darkness. So what comfort was it that he sought in the arms of his lover? A lover that he took who was himself… a demon. Sendoh frowned a little to himself. Strange. It was all so, so strange. He could barely make sense of it.

But despite that, Kogure Kiminobu appeared, without doubt or qualification, to be quite perfect. Otherworldly and lovely. The warmth Sendoh felt in his centre looking at him was no figment of his imagination. Kogure did this to him. Certain as anything.

But it made him wonder, again, as before, and a hundred thousand times still to come, just what had Rukawa Kaede been like before Sakuragi Hanamichi had torn him apart? Could he have been, even as Kogure was now, something so wholly pure?

What had he been like before the darkness had taken him, dragged him down, and drowned him?

Sendoh's eyes moved over to observe him instead, this Kaede. This creature that seemed to walk a very perilous line between was he was, and what he had been. Who could not bear the sight of his own twisted reflection. Couldn't bear Sendoh's hands upon him. Who ate himself up with the shame of what he was. When, even in spite of the thing of nightmare that he had become, he appeared to Sendoh's eyes something quite beautiful. His was a cold, dark beauty. Not like Kogure, not at all like Kogure, but in some other way. Something fierce, and strong, and entrancing. As if he could be all the more lovely for the fact that he was so utterly ruined. Trapped in his own personal hell.

He was acting as Kogure's sparring partner this cold morning. It seemed Kogure was eager to take advantage of the snapped cord of his vows and indulge himself in innocent swordplay.

The two of them were swift footed and lightning fast in opposition on the frosty ground. The noise of their swords through the air made whistles so similar to the wind through the bare branches of the trees that it was almost indistinguishable. Kaede's sword, _Akira_ , with its characteristic blue glow, was heavier, broader, but considerably slower. Kogure's blade was pure white as Sendoh had noticed the day before, rapier thin and moving like a white ribbon in the hands of a gymnast through the air. At first glance the two of them seemed evenly matched, acting out various patterns of strikes, butting up experimentally against each other's defences. But that was, Sendoh came to realise, illusionary in itself. They were merely warming up, although to his eyes it was almost indistinguishable from a full-out attack. But each pass gathered speed. The swords gradually increased, faster, then faster, and faster still until the noise of the ringing steel coming together became almost a continuous sound like bells.

And then the difference in them began to reveal itself as quite apparent.

Rukawa Kaede was undoubtedly one of the fastest, most skilled swordsmen Sendoh had ever seen. Second to Mitsui by his own admission admittedly, but nonetheless wondrous beyond the contemplation of a mortal such as he. Nothing else he'd seen was so fast, so elegant, so light-footed and sure and his eyes, ferocious and determined, the kind of warring spirit from whom a mere gaze could stop a weak-minded opponent in his tracks. But even he, for all that he was, was a child compared to Kogure Kiminobu.

The other boy – that angelic creature, untouched, unbroken, bright and eager and brilliant in his own sweet ways – was an absolute master of that fine blade he spun.

Sendoh could remember Sakuragi's words clearly. _They're no longer any threat to me. They're not angels any more._ Though he could hardly afford to trust the words of that hateful creature, somehow it didn't seem as if he had been lying. Angels, it was becoming rather apparent to Sendoh watching the two practise on the cold grass, were the stronger race by far.

Rukawa was forced to retreat every time. Every time. Without exception.

It was difficult to follow the speed of their exchanges and yet Sendoh saw how Rukawa could never penetrate Kogure's defence despite utilising every trick available to him, whilst Kogure could drive him back quite readily.

Once, or twice, Sendoh noticed Rukawa cheating a little. His image would ripple, distort, for a moment, a fraction of a second, and he would move sideways, or jump back, far beyond natural ability in order to evade a strike or put a little more distance between himself and the white blade that pressured him. Sendoh came to realise that he was using his wings to propel him with greater speed, bringing them into existence for a mere moment, too fast to become visible, but long enough to give him a short burst of speed. But Kogure didn't seem to mind. And Kogure didn't seem to need to cheat. Even with his fullmost form, Rukawa remained slower that the angel who challenged him.

Kogure Kiminobu, Sendoh came to understand as he watched, was quite a phenomena.

And yet… he was shackled.

Muzzled by their own laws. For, as Sendoh now knew, angels could not fight. Could not kill. Could not shed blood. It seemed that mere practise, swordplay, sparring as Kogure and Rukawa were doing before his eyes was within the accepted practises. But to do more than that – to fight with intention to hurt, or to kill - was not permitted to them. And the punishment… was hard. Worse than death, perhaps. Sendoh wondered a little at that.

How did it feel to become the very thing that you hate the most?

How did Rukawa cope with the reality that weighed down on him so heavily? And Mitsui, too? The inescapable and final nature of their eternal damnation. Had it been worth it? Could they have escaped this fate that had been forced so unkindly upon them both if things had been even a little different? Would they have chosen differently if they ever had the chance to go back? Did Mitsui ever... regret what he had had to give up in exchange for Kaede's freedom?

And then Kogure. Perhaps their strongest weapon and yet unable to help them in their hopeless campaign against Sakuragi without having to pay the same penalty himself, and by some cruel irony, rendering himself so much weaker in the process. It was all so unreasonably sad.

"That sword is too heavy for you," Kogure's voice carried over to him on the breeze abruptly, bringing Sendoh out of his thoughts and causing him to tilt his head and listen. Rukawa was breathing hard, obviously struggling to keep up with the speed of Kogure's attack, although Kogure did not appear particularly breathless. "You should think about..."

"No."

They both of them looked towards him. Sendoh gazed curiously from a distance, Kogure closer to him, his expression laced with concern. Rukawa's expression was uncompromising.

"But you're not as fast as when you used to-"

"No," Rukawa repeated, straightening up, pushing his hair out of his face, his voice determined. "I won't change my mind. Let's go again."

"Kaede..." Kogure began unhappily, frowned, and then seemed to give a small, regretful sigh. "All right." He lifted his sword and moved his feet into position, ready to attack. "Again."

They continued their spar, although the result seemed inevitable. Sendoh continued to watch them curiously.

It wasn't long before a pair of slippered feet appeared beside him and he looked up to see Mitsui Hisashi standing beside where he was seated, his arms folded over his chest, his beautiful long sword even now at his waist as he looked out at the two boys as Sendoh had just been doing. He cut a dramatic figure, standing there, tall and handsome, elegant in a dark plain kimono. His eyes were narrowed as he observed them, perhaps analysing their weaknesses, assessing their strengths.

Sendoh recalled the ferocious argument he'd had with Rukawa just the night before and wondered whether his intensely bad mood might have persisted until this day. But Mitsui said nothing and gave no indication of his thoughts.

Sendoh cleared his throat a little. "Good morning," he ventured.

Mitsui glanced down at him irritably and gave only a vague grunt in response. Internally, Sendoh sighed. He couldn't really understand just why Mitsui seemed to dislike him quite so much. It wasn't as if he had asked to be here. He'd never asked them for help, or anything, really, as far as he could see.

They'd come to help him, granted. And he was grateful for it, very much so. But there'd been no obligation on Mitsui's part to do anything for him at all. Sendoh resisted the urge to shake his head.

"Thank you," he began. "For… what you did yesterday." He hoped his voice conveyed his sincerity.

Mitsui visibly gave a roll of his eyes.

Was it because Sendoh seemed to appear so weak? Was that why Mitsui was so hostile towards him? But Sendoh had never considered himself to be weak before. Perhaps besides immortal warriors like these he didn't really seem like much but he was as good as any other mortal out there. He'd always been proud of his skill. His friends had looked up to him as if he were their unofficial leader. Although, he recalled with a momentary burst of pain in his heart, he hadn't been strong enough to save them in the end.

Mitsui finally gave a vague huff and took a seat on the edge of the veranda beside Sendoh, keeping his eyes on where Rukawa and Kogure were dancing back and forth.

Sendoh wondered what he was supposed to say. His thoughts drifted back to the day before. Mitsui's anger, Sakuragi's smirk, Kogure's trembling hands, and Rukawa's intense frustration. He recalled all that Sakuragi had told him. The truth of Rukawa's horrific aphesis. The fact that Mitsui had saved him, but what it had cost him. How he had sacrificed himself in the process.

What sort of relationship did they share, these two who were like brothers? What Mitsui had done… what he had given up... didn't seen like something you did for just anyone. There must have been a reason. There must be something beyond what Sendoh could see right now. The love between them must be deeper than it appeared.

"Yesterday..." he began carefully, earning a glance from the corner of Mitsui's eye. "He... Sakuragi I mean... told me a little about… the past."

At the sound of that hateful name, Sendoh felt the familiar tug of his senses, pulling at his gut, squeezing coldly at his throat. He shook it off determinedly.

"Is it true?" he asked finally.

Mitsui looked away again, apparently disinterested in the question, not intending to answer him.

Sendoh tried to press him. "I don't trust him but I… I don't want to ask Kaede. He doesn't want to talk about it, I'm sure. But I don't want to be misled if Sakuragi was lying to me."

"Huh." Mitsui finally looked at him properly, turning his head. He fixed Sendoh with a stare from his unfriendly blue eyes. "Not knowing what he told you, I don't see how I'm supposed to confirm it."

"Oh..." Sendoh hesitated. He didn't really want to have to repeat it but it seemed inevitable. "Well, I heard that he kept Kaede… uhm," he cleared this throat awkwardly, "prisoner... for three days and… and that they..." he hesitated, his words failing him. He didn't even want to give it voice. He recalled suddenly how he'd asked Rukawa about it before, in that warm temple kitchen, and Rukawa's answer to him. _I don't think I can say it out loud._ That was what Rukawa had said. And that was exactly how Sendoh felt at this moment.

However Mitsui did not seem to share the same scruples. "Raped him," Mitsui provided bluntly into the silence, his expression slightly mocking, as if Sendoh's hesitation were a sign of weakness, his voice factual and merciless. "Repeatedly. Him and all those pieces of shit that followed him." He rolled his eyes and looked away. "True."

Sendoh swallowed unhappily at this confirmation. "And then he said that... you came, and... killed them all."

"Not all." Mitsui's eyes narrowed, a dangerous blackness flickering briefly across his features as Sendoh's questions stirred unpleasant memories. "Not all."

For a moment Sendoh was uncertain what he meant, but then he realised that Mitsui was referring to Sakuragi himself.

"But what you did. For Kaede," Sendoh hesitated. "I just thought it was..." he stumbled. How could he possibly put it into words? Mitsui had given up everything - _everything_ \- to save him. His home. His being. His life with his lover. He'd embraced eternal damnation, exile, and the most appalling malformation.

Though his exterior seemed rough, rude, unfriendly, arrogant. But...

 _But_

Sendoh thought that he could recognise something more in him at that moment. Just a second. A quick glimpse of his selfless and awesome goodness. For a second he felt as if he were glimpsing that soul beneath; that which Kogure loved, and Kaede fought beside, and even Sakuragi had seemed to almost begrudgingly acknowledge. _The_ _first._

Unable to explain himself, Sendoh faltered into silence.

Mitsui gave a dismissive click of his tongue and turned back to where Kaede and Kiminobu were exchanging blows.

"You're a thousand years too early to talk to me about Kaede," he sneered.

Sendoh sighed silently. "I just hope I have that kind of resolve," he said softly.

Mitsui looked at him askance. "Why? It's not like he's asking you to die for him."

Sendoh gave a slow, sad smile, fixing his eyes on the boy in question, moving back and forth on the grass like a strange dance of shadows. "Isn't he?"

The words hung between them, heavy. Mitsui stared at him for a long moment before looking away. He tutted again, irritably, but didn't seem to know what to say. An awkward silence descended between them.

Finally, Mitsui dropped his eyes to his hands and gave a low sigh. "Look, for what it's worth, his stupid plan isn't going to work anyway."

Sendoh frowned. "Why do you say that?"

"Because, as you've obviously already realised yourself, the whole thing involves putting you in danger," Mitsui shook his head, "No, not just danger. Pretty much certain death. Sakuragi is... he's... well..." he curled his lip, "...he's no fucking joke."

"Yeah. I've... met him," Sendoh agreed, giving a small nod.

"Honestly, even Kiminobu would be hard pressed to hold him back if he fought seriously," Mitsui ground his teeth together crossly. "And Kaede, well..." he huffed irritably. "He can pretend all he wants, but I know him. Sacrifice you for his own ends?" he spat crossly. "Ridiculous. I mean, look at you. You're a fucking puppy dog." Mitsui scowled angrily at him, his eyes flashing up and down as he took in the sight of Sendoh seated there. "Little orphan boy. No family, no friends, no home. Those big blue eyes and handsome face, damn." He began to rip up shreds of grass in irritation with one idle hand and throw them angrily over the edge of the veranda. "That sword is supposed to give him an advantage, but the fact is that you're just going to be another weakness. Dead weight that we can't afford to protect. Kaede will be begging Sakuragi to take him before he lets you get hurt. And that, well... that fucking pisses me off."

He descended into a simmering silence, his eyes dark and irritated.

Sendoh wasn't sure what to say to all that. He waited in case Mitsui would say more, but it seemed his complaint was over. He mulled over Mitsui's words thoughtfully. Without knowing exactly what Rukawa was intending to do, he was in no position to judge. And yet Mitsui's argument seemed to be grounded in reason. He'd clearly given it thought. His prickly animosity towards Sendoh's presence became a little more rational if it was true that he saw Sendoh only as Rukawa's weakness.

"I'd do anything to help him..." Sendoh tried to explain. "But I don't know what to do for the best. I don't even know what he's planning. I have to trust Kaede. Right now, I really don't see what else I can do."

After a moment, Mitsui scowled. "I know. It's not your fault he's so fucking stubborn," he glanced at Sendoh again. "Look. I've got nothing against you, really. But you need to understand, I would kill every mortal in this whole damn world if it meant I could prevent him being forced to his knees in front of that monster ever again. And that's the truth. And if that makes me a demon, so be it."

Sendoh met his agitated gaze calmly. Although Mitsui's words were aggressive, Sendoh was stuck with the impression that he was more bark than bite. In spite of his words, Sendoh was left with the sense that Mitsui could be... trusted. "We're on the same side," Sendoh pointed out. "We want the same thing."

"Huh." Mitsui seemed to chew on his words. "Well, since you've already figured out so much, it's a wonder you haven't just run off. I mean, I didn't think there was a mortal in the world who could encounter Sakuragi Hanamichi and not lose his fucking mind, and yet here you are." He fixed Sendoh with an intense, searching stare. "Alive and apparently sane. How come? How come you're not pissing down your own leg in terror, huh?"

Sendoh shrugged and his lips tugged up into a smile. "I'm a fool, I guess."

"Yeah. I guess you are." Mitsui sniffed to himself and looked away, "I'm just saying, Kaede could have chosen worse, you know."

Was that... supposed to be a compliment? For a moment, Sendoh didn't know what to say.

Mitsui abruptly got to his feet and brushed grass and dust from his clothes. "Well. If you intend to survive longer than thirty seconds against Sakuragi, you'd better practise. You're a long way off where you need to be."

Sendoh looked up at him in surprise. Was he offering to...?

Mitsui glared down at him impatiently. "Well?"

Sendoh got to his feet, an amused grin touching his lips, "Yes, master!"

"Don't fucking call me that," Mitsui snarled, and strode off, out onto the grass as Sendoh hurried to follow him. A short distance away, Rukawa and Kogure stopped what they were doing to watch them curiously.

"Are you going to use your right arm this time?" Sendoh questioned, feeling rather excited.

"Only if you want me to crush you like a fucking cockroach." Mitsui stopped in the centre of the grass and gestured. "All right. You don't have a hope in hell of blocking anything. You'd better just concentrate on attacking. Who knows, you might get lucky," he shrugged and looked doubtful, "very lucky. I'll stand here," he drew _Vengeance_ with a sharp ring of steel. "Try and get inside my defence."

Sendoh gripped his sword, and pulled her from her sheath with a grin. Despite what he had said, Mitsui was holding _Vengeance_ in his right hand.

For a moment Sendoh recalled the way Mitsui had fought against the demons here at the farm. How he'd taken down dozens of them almost single-handedly. Sendoh had never seen anyone so skillful. It had been an absolute work of art.

 _He's even better than Kaede,_ he reminded himself in a moment of awe. His heartbeat sped up excitedly. He'd never had the chance to learn from someone so strong before.

"All right, here I come," he said, tightening his grip and narrowing his eyes. He lunged at Mitsui in a sudden burst of speed, bringing _Innocence_ around in a fast, deadly arch. The blade sang through the air, ferocious as he-

-with a lightning fast motion, Vengeance clashed thickly into Sendoh's attack and sent him to the ground with one determined block.

He winced as his buttocks hit the floor awkwardly, as if he'd just run into a wall. But he climbed eagerly back to his feet.

"That was shit," Mitsui informed him flatly.

Sendoh didn't wait but went at him again. Vengeance denied him soundly with a deflection that felt like he'd hit a ton of rocks.

"Too obvious"

Another pass and he hit nothing but air. As he stumbled forward, unbalanced, Vengeance punished him with a flat blow between his shoulder blades that sent him sprawling forwards. He crashed into the floor, only just about managing to keep his grip on his sword.

"...and clumsy."

Sendoh grit his teeth, but clambered swiftly back to his feet, his sandals digging into the dirt as he turned without pause went at him for the fourth time. _Innocence_ was sent ricocheting backwards and nearly out of his hand.

"Your footwork sucks."

He staggered back, found his balance, and tried again. This time Sendoh forced himself to hold back his power, controlling his speed in expectation of the block. Mitsui was not the sort of opponent he could hope to overpower, so he took a more subtle approach, feinting first to the right before swinging around to the left. Mitsui was not fooled, but for the first time the swords met twice before Sendoh lost his footing.

Mitsui scoffed. "A bit better, still shit. Your footwork _really_ sucks."

Sendoh shook his head and forced himself to concentrate. He thought he was beginning to understand how Mitsui was using his own strength against him. The harder he drove in, the more difficult it was to cope with the deflection.

 _Ok. He's stronger than me. Faster than me. I'm just exhausting myself against a wall. But if I can pull him into a rhythm I might..._

His next drives were faster but lighter, and the swords rang together once, twice, three, four, five times before Sendoh seized the opening and switched his rhythm, putting his whole strength into the swing, sucking in his breath and unleashing _Innocence_ in a sudden powerful blow, hoping to catch Mitsui off-guard.

 _Vengeance_ smashed him aside with enough force that he went physically tumbling sideways.

This time Sendoh hit the ground heavily, the sword finally bouncing out of his hand, the breath knocked totally out of him. He didn't have the strength to clamber back up to his feet straight away. For a second he could only lie there, closing his eyes, struggling to catch his breath, feeling a well of alien hopelessness running through his veins. Was it really that impossible? Was he destined to be weak compared to them? Was this a physical barrier he was never going to overcome? Mitsui's level was far away from him. So, so far. And even Mitsui did not compare to the full strength of Sakuragi Hanamichi. Was this actually hopeless?

Behind him, Mitsui thrust _Vengeance_ into the ground crossly. "Your feet are all wrong," he growled. "It's just lazy. No support from the back, and even your forward foot is shaky. A fucking sharp wind could knock you over," he narrowed his eyes. "Didn't your Master teach you _anything_?"

Sendoh gasped the air into his lungs, forcing himself to open his eyes. He couldn't stay here like this. He couldn't just lie on the ground in miserable defeat like this. He struggled up to his knees, putting a hand to his bruised ribs, still gasping for breath.

"I never learnt from a Master," he managed to answer.

Mitsui snorted. "The other day you took my sword right out of my hand. You must have learnt from _someone_."

Sendoh shook his head as he staggered back to his feet. "I... just practised with my... friend Ikegami," he wheezed. "No one… taught us."

Mitsui's mouth dropped open in disbelief. "You mean you're… _self taught_?" he demanded. "Are you fucking serious?"

Sendoh managed to straighten up, still short of breath. His eyes found Mitsui standing a few feet away, his face revealing his complete disbelief.

Sendoh shrugged. He collected his sword from the ground. "We learnt from the demons. Kill or be killed, you know."

Mitsui's eyes narrowed crossly at him. "You can't be serious," he growled. The next moment he turned his head to the side, his fierce eyes seeking the two others who were still stood watching them both on the further side of the grass. "Kaede!" Mitsui shouted to him, his voice loud, gesturing him over.

To late to pretend he wasn't listening, Rukawa very reluctantly began to approach, Kogure following after a moment a couple of steps behind. They were both dressed warmly in thick winter kimonos although Kogure's was tidy and rich as usual, in contrast to the rest of them who looked casual and rumpled like a motley group of vagabonds.

Rukawa's eyes moved between Sendoh and Mitsui suspiciously. "What?" he asked, a little defensively as he drew close to where they stood. Sendoh drew himself up a little straighter. He wondered briefly quite how stupid he had just looked on the receiving end of Mitsui's sword, and vaguely hoped Rukawa hadn't been paying too much attention.

Mitsui pointed a finger at Sendoh. "He's never been taught how to use a sword."

Rukawa raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"And? _And?_ " Mitsui waved his arms widely in irritation. "How could you let this happen?"

Rukawa scowled. "What the hell do you expect me to do about it?"

"Teach him!" Mitsui burst out.

"I don't know how to teach him," Rukawa stated flatly.

"He's your responsibility," Mitsui growled at him, still gesturing angrily. "How can you put him in front of Sakuragi when he doesn't even know his left foot from his right?"

"Hey, now wait a minute..." Sendoh tried to protest, thinking Mitsui's comment more than a little unfair, but no one was listening to him.

"He's talented," Mitsui argued forcefully, paying him no attention at all, leaning forward, his eyes fixed on Rukawa's. "He's smart, and determined, and he's got some of the best instincts I've ever seen. If he had the basics properly, he'd be... he'd actually be _something_ , you know?" He turned away and began to grumble to himself, "Took Vengeance right out of my hand. Fuck. Fucking hell. _Self-taught._ What a load of shit."

Sendoh and Rukawa both stared at him mutely. It seemed ridiculous almost to the point of comical to hear Mitsui defending Sendoh.

"I don't know how to teach him," Rukawa repeated with flat finality.

There was a quiet shuffle of feet behind them. "I could teach him," Kogure offered quietly.

They all turned to look at him.

Mitsui began to shake his head. "No. No, you need to go back."

"I could stay a couple of days."

A look of momentary uncertainty flickered across Mitsui's expression. "Not with the gate open. It's too risky. Besides, as long as you're here, we're totally blind. We need you to keep an eye on what's going on."

"Isn't it worth it?" Kogure's stare was totally steady. "You said it yourself. He could be something. Kaede isn't going to change his mind, so why not try to make him… something more?"

Sendoh took half a step forward. "Can you really teach me?" His eyes showed anxious eagerness. He had a lot of skill, but it was all hard-won through experience. There was so much, so much he was sure, that he could learn, that could make him stronger, if only someone would take the time to show him.

"I won't go easy on you," Kogure warned him, his face gentle though his eyes were firm.

Sendoh bowed from the waist. It seemed the only thing to do. "Please," he said.

Beside him, after a second, Rukawa did the same, mirroring his actions and offering a low bow to Kogure in silent plea. His long black hair fell over his eyes so that Sendoh could not see his expression. But Sendoh... felt something, yet again; that stirring at the centre of him. They were... together, in this thing. Partners, somehow. And the thought of their bond, even though their enemy was strong and terrifying, was a pleasant one. That Rukawa would bow his head in solidarity with him at that moment seemed a wonderful thing.

For Mitsui he felt a deep, awesome respect. For Kogure, warmth, and admiration of something so beautiful. But for Rukawa Kaede, and only for Rukawa Kaede, he felt his soul move.

He couldn't define it, or rationalise it. He couldn't say exactly why he felt this way. But it was undeniable. They were bound together by something much more than words or sentiments could express. And it tugged at him. Made him feel possessive. As if Kaede were his. His alone. And no one else, no one else could know what it meant to feel this way. To... love him in this way.

 _He is mine. And I... I am most undoubtedly his. I feel as if I belong to him. For the life-debt that I owe to him. I would enslave myself to him were he ever to demand it of me. And that's the truth._

Sendoh closed his eyes for a brief moment. Even if he was just a tool - a cog in an elaborate and dangerous plan - it made no difference to how he felt. Even if he were merely being used, he didn't seem to mind. If that was what Rukawa wanted of him, he would do whatever was necessary. Even death didn't seem that unreasonable a price to pay.

He opened his eyes, to see Rukawa glance his way. Their gazes meet briefly, and Sendoh felt his heart squeeze up hard against his ribs, a warm smile fleeting across his features as Rukawa observed him quietly.

Before he could say anything, however, Kogure began to laugh, and the sound was so sweet and so beautiful that any words died on Sendoh's tongue. Yet he struggled to break away from Rukawa's gaze.

"You two don't have to be so formal," Kogure chided them in amusement. "It's my pleasure."

"I don't like it," Mitsui was still complaining.

Kogure set a hand on his arm gently, and the way they stood close together made it clear that they were very much more than mere acquaintances. Kogure looked at Mitsui with a gaze that was pure love. The one that was returned to him was, if anything, even greater – anxious and desperate - as if Mitsui could barely believe that this creature of light was his.

Sendoh watched them curiously. Rukawa looked away.

* * *

"All right," Kogure gestured, "sit down."

Sendoh did as directed, feeling the coldness of the ground under him.

"Close your eyes."

He did so, a little hesitantly.

"Breathe."

No further instructions came after that. Sendoh sat, his eyes closed, breathed, waited. Nothing happened. Silence.

He cracked open one eye.

"Close them!"

He hurriedly did so. After a few more minutes, he couldn't resist asking, "What am I supposed to...?"

"Shhh. Listen."

He strained his ears. There were noises all around him. The leaves, the wind, insects, even the quiet creak of timbers from the house behind him. His senses were strong and his awareness of such things already high. He was fairly sure he would be able to pass Kogure's test, if that was what it was.

"What am I listening for?" He hazarded finally.

"Your sword."

Sendoh frowned. That... he had not expected. He furrowed his brows. He increased his concentration. He strained his ears.

"But..." he protested after a minute, "...it doesn't make any sound."

"Yes, she does. She's a beautiful sword. Listen to her."

"But I-"

"Shhhh!"

Sendoh clamped down on his sigh and attempted to listen again. Nothing. Innocence was, of course, in her sheath, still, and totally silent.

Minutes crept by. There was nothing to hear.

Finally he opened his eyes again. Kogure was sitting opposite him, a few feet away, his eyes closed as Sendoh's had been, apparently peaceful in meditation.

"I know," Kogure announced very softly, without changing his position or opening his eyes, "that your eyes are not closed."

Sendoh tilted his head to examine him, but could not see even the slightest crack that could indicate that Kogure was watching him behind lowered lids.

"How?" he queried.

"Because I am listening to your sword," Kogure answered.

Sendoh finally frowned. "I don't really... understand."

Kogure opened his eyes very slowly and lifted one hand in an elegant gesture. "May I hold it for a moment?"

Sendoh moved to pull the sword and sheath from it's place at his hip and passed it across to Kogure who received it reverently. "Ah..." he smiled. He pulled her from the sheath slowly, his eyes moving over the blade curiously. "You take good care of her," he noted.

Sendoh shrugged. It wasn't as if she required much care. He'd never needed to polish or sharpen her blade. A simple clean was enough to maintain her condition.

Kogure put his fore and middle fingers on top of the blade and gently ran them along the length of the steel, setting it ringing with a low, gentle hum that was low and steady and gentle to Sendoh's ears.

"Hear her?"

"Well, yes..."

Kogure took the hilt in two hands and moved the blade artfully, turning her about, setting her edge against the breeze, moving her with a perfect elegant slowness through the air. The metal hummed gently as the motion caused the air to part over the impossibly fine edge of the sword. "And now?"

Sendoh nodded mutely.

The blade drew gradually to a stop, perfectly horizontal and refined in Kogure's masterful hands. As she slowed, the sound of the song faded slowly into silence, leaving nothing but a ringing in Sendoh's straining ears. "How about now?"

Sendoh shook his head. "Because she's not moving."

"Isn't she?"

Sendoh hesitated.

Kogure continue, "Don't you think the air is still moving over her blade? Even the meanest breath of wind?"

"Uhm..."

"Don't you think she is moving to the breaths I take? To the pulse in my hand? Do you think I am a statue that can hold her perfectly still?"

Sendoh stared at him, uncertain what to say. Kogure finally sheathed the sword carefully and passed it back to him.

"Your sword is your mirror. She speaks of your condition, your state of mind, the speed of your heartbeat, even your thoughts and intentions. Knowing your sword, listening to her song, is to hear your own soul."

Sendoh took her back uncertainly. She felt a little foreign to him now. He hadn't ever considered such things before. Had he really been fighting in ignorance of such fundamentals for so many years? Was this going to make him stronger?

Kogure gestured vaguely. "Tell me about her."

Sendoh glanced up at him uncertainly. "What do you mean?"

"It's easier to hear her if you know her well. Her history. Where was she forged? By whom? For what purpose? And how is it that she has come into your possession now?"

"I... I don't really... know."

Kogure's stare became puzzled. "You don't know?"

Sendoh shook his head helplessly.

"But..." Kogure frowned. "Well, where did you get her then? It would be strange for an angel's sword to come totally inexplicably into your possession, don't you think? There must be a reason for it, a grander purpose behind it, wouldn't you say?"

"Well, someone gave her to me. But I didn't know him, and I never met him again after that."

"When?"

"On the day I... became a slayer."

Kogure put his fingers to his chin in thought. "And what else?"

"Except that everyone says she is an angel's sword and her name is Innocence..." he shrugged, "nothing else."

Kogure lowered his hand slowly to his lap. "Well... that makes it harder but not impossible. You've had her for many years, I take it?"

"Sixteen years."

"Well... it is the bond you share that is the most important thing. Why don't you just listen and try to imagine? Hold the blade in two hands, not the hilt no, put your palms directly on the metal, that's it. Close your eyes. Listen."

Sendoh did so, holding his palms flat, Innocence's cold steel resting on his upturned hands.

"Answer me this: is she an ancient sword, or a young sword?"

Sendoh attempted to listen but still heard nothing. He decided to guess. "Uhm... young? Maybe?"

"Okay. What has she seen?"

He thought of the times he had sworn on her bright metal. The most painful moments of his life had all been reflected in her light. His childhood home burning to the ground before his eyes, taking with it the lifeless bodies of his family, and every item that he might have remembered them by. The tavern that had become a home to him and the friends Sakuragi had taken from him. And Anzai's freshly turned grave. The answer came easily. "Tears," he decided, "And... many promises of revenge."

Kogure nodded briefly. "Then, what is the significance of her name?"

"Uh-" he faltered. This question seemed harder than the others. He considered. "Maybe... a... hope? A... future that might be... brighter than the past."

"Interesting..." Kogure's voice was curious. "... and what is her purpose?"

Another difficult question. Sendoh creased his brows. "To..." he hesitated. The word _slay_ hung half formed in his lips, but somehow he held it back in that moment. That was his own initial reaction but he tried to listen harder in line with what Kogure had been telling him. "To..." he concentrated hard, furrowing his brows. "...to... protect."

There was silence from Kogure for a long moment. "Is that right?" he finally asked softly.

Sendoh cracked open his eyes uncertainly, not sure if he'd said something wrong. "Well I'm not sure I just..."

Kogure lifted his hand in a gesture for him to cease. "You can hear more than you think," he told him.

"But I still don't actually... hear anything?"

Kogure climbed to his feet. "Perhaps you don't need to. You mortals have your own ways, your own mysteries. I expect I can only take you so far. You'll need to find the rest of the way on your own." He pointed to the sword. "Meditate. Listen. Normally it takes a few weeks, maybe even months, to begin to hear it, but for a swordsman as talented as you?" He turned and made to walk off. "I'll give you one day."

"One day?" Sendoh echoed weakly, but Kogure was already striding off back to the house. Sendoh looked back down at the naked blade that rested on his open palms. He felt a little bewildered. He was supposed to... hear his sword? Meditate? These things were totally outside his experiences. This was not quite what he'd been expecting from his lessons with Kogure. He shook his head and suppressed a sigh. "All right, my friend. We can do this. Right?" He eyed _Innocence_ uncertainly for a moment, then closed his eyes and shrugged. "Right. Okay..." He tried to concentrate. "Maybe."

Rukawa appeared beside him just as dusk was falling. Sendoh had settled himself in a small clearing just beyond the trees that surrounded the rear paddies. He hadn't wanted to be in sight of the house. He had wanted to be alone to concentrate.

Lost in his meditations, Sendoh didn't even notice Rukawa's presence until he sat beside him and gently jostled his arm.

Slowly Sendoh dragged himself out of his centre, pulling his mind back to himself from the tip of the blade that he'd been prickling with his thoughts. Letting his consciousness ooze along her edge curiously. Asking her to speak.

He opened his eyes as if he was dragging himself out of a deep sleep. His eyelids felt heavy. His forearms and shoulders were an absolute agony of muscular pain from sitting and holding out the blade horizontal and motionless for so many hours.

"Eugh-" he gave his head a vague shake, noticing the darkening of the day. "It's this late already?"

Rukawa tilted his head slightly but said nothing.

Sendoh frowned. "I... I don't have a lot of time so I think I should..." he turned his eyes back to the sword. So many hours, he felt utterly exhausted by the intense concentration he'd been forcing himself into, but despite all his best efforts, he still heard nothing.

Rukawa followed his gaze to the sword. "It's... deeper than you expect," he advised softly.

Sendoh glanced towards him. "You can hear it?" he asked, a little surprised.

Rukawa shrugged.

"I was beginning to think Kogure was just making stuff up."

Rukawa shrugged again. "It's real enough. When Hisashi calls Vengeance to him, he uses the same tone that the sword sings. He knows her so well that he spends half his time sunk in her frequency. The words themselves... aren't that important. It's the sound. The frequency that resonates with the blade. Kogure can call _Mercy_ to him too. Once you can hear your sword, you should be able to call her to your hand in the same way."

Sendoh brightened excitedly. "Really?"

Rukawa only nodded.

"Does your sword come to you too?" Sendoh pressed him eagerly, leaning forwards, the pain in his arms seeming to fade with Rukawa's presence.

Rukawa's eyes dropped to the hilt of _Akira_ on his hip. "No. No... this sword is a little different. The sound is..." he tilted his head as if listening, "...complex. I don't really know her that well. Perhaps one day it would be possible, but..." he shrugged.

"Hmm..." Sendoh considered this thoughtfully. "You mean you haven't had her for long?"

"Only since I've... known you."

Sendoh straightened a little. "Really?" He cast his mind back. How long had it been? The day the tavern had burned down... the day Rukawa had saved him. A couple of weeks perhaps. How strange. It all felt like a lifetime ago.

Rukawa was watching him quietly. Sendoh turned eagerly back to his sword. Talking about it with Rukawa made him feel a little more inspired. He decided to hold out _Innocence_ once again, trying to concentrate on the lower limit of his hearing as Rukawa had advised.

"I keep thinking I can hear it but..." he furrowed his brows, lowering the sword once again into his lap. "Every time, I realise I'm just imagining it."

He turned his eyes back to Rukawa and studied his face for a long moment. The sudden compulsion to lean into him, to be closer, to reach out and touch him, came over him.

"Say, uhm," he blurted. "Would you go somewhere with me? I want to... show you something."

Rukawa looked at him curiously and Sendoh gazed steadily back. He held out his hand in invitation.

"It's nothing nefarious," he smiled. "You don't need to look so worried."

"But, the... gate is..."

Sendoh leaned forward with a charming grin that caught Rukawa wrong-footed for a moment. "I'll protect you," Sendoh promised in a whisper, his eyes mischievous. Before Rukawa could glare at him in reprimand for his casualness, he leaned back again and continued more seriously, "Honestly, I just want to get away from here for a while. My mind feels like it's taken a beating," he put his fingers to his temples. "And I know where to go. And I want you to come with me."

Rukawa's eyes flickered down to eye Sendoh's offered hand with suspicion. "And if I refuse?"

Sendoh smirked a little and climbed to his feet. "Then I'll go by myself. And you'll follow me anyway, am I right?"

Rukawa scowled, clicked his tongue irritably and got up as well. "Fine."

Sendoh took his arm excitedly and tugged at it. "Come on then."

Rukawa scowled deeper in disapproval, but allowed Sendoh to pull him away.

* * *

He began to wonder if he hadn't always been in love with him. What was it, exactly, that caused him to feel like this? When had it begun?

It was more. More than it ought to be. More than it had any right to be. More than he could deny. And more, increasingly, than he could control.

But it was wrong. So, so wrong. He had to… keep it in. Hide it. Crush it.

He was exceptional. Truly. His strength. His unadulterated _goodness_. He was without flaw despite the cruelness of the world that had done nothing but spit on him. He'd been dealt more pain, more misfortune, more loss than anyone could deserve in a lifetime and yet he smiled as if Rukawa was the one who needed care, need tenderness and comfort. His thoughts went naturally to Rukawa's condition before his own, selfless in his kindness. Protective and warm and everything, everything, Rukawa knew to be ethereally wondrous, and yet bound to this small life. This mortal soul. He was so beautiful, and so fleeting, he almost wanted to cry.

"Isn't it beautiful? I told you it was beautiful." Sendoh's voice was like a wave lapping against the shores of his mind.

He stared blankly up at the sky. _Is it?_ He couldn't seem to tell.

Sendoh glanced towards him. "Are you all right?"

Rukawa swallowed.

 _I... can't. It... it's wrong, it's foolish, it's not right but_

 _But I can't seem to stop it._

"I'm fine," he muttered.

He wondered how long he'd been in love with him. It felt like a very long time.

 _Damn._

Sendoh's arm draped gently across his shoulders. "You don't look well." His concerned eyes peered into Rukawa's. "Let's go sit down somewhere."

Rukawa allowed himself to be led.

Above their heads, fireworks were exploding in showers of red and gold. The noise they made seemed to shake Rukawa to his core. Rumbles and explosions in some ironic celestial representation of his scattered state of mind.

Sendoh pulled him back from the river where the small crowd of onlookers were taking the opportunity to watch the noble's use of the new imported _hanabi._ They climbed a steep rise up and away from the riverbank, under the branches of spindly willows whose bare bodies did little to hide the lights shimmering above. Sendoh made him sit on a downed trunk, sadly horizontal, brought low by some past typhoon.

"Aida always knew when the governors were planning fireworks," Sendoh told him as he sat beside him on the rough bark. "But they always seemed like a summer thing to me. Don't you think so?" He glanced towards Rukawa who was still staring forwards into nothingness, unresponsive. "Uhm-" Sendoh faltered in the face of Rukawa's cold silence.

Rukawa had seen the spectacle of the fireworks several times before, but never beside someone. Despite the people all around he'd always been alone. Mitsui wouldn't waste his time on something so frivolous. It seemed stupid. Just lights in the skies.

He stared at the floor as the ground took on the unnatural colours of the flares. There was an inescapable craving upon him, like madness.

He didn't like it. The way he was feeling. It wasn't right that he should... it wasn't... what he was. It wasn't what he ought to...

Sendoh took gentle hold of his shoulder and looked anxiously into his face. "Kaede?"

 _It's not real_. Rukawa told himself strictly. _You're imagining it, and, he's imagining it._

"Kaede? You're acting strangely."

Rukawa looked up abruptly, staring into Sendoh's blue eyes as if startled. His gaze flickered down to Sendoh's lips compulsively, only to flash upwards again. His stomach writhed with guilt.

"-what?" he mumbled, finally realising that Sendoh had said something to him.

Sendoh only smiled in fond amusement, and did not look away.

After a moment, Rukawa cleared his throat uncomfortably and forced himself to speak.

"Does it not bother you?" he asked unexpectedly, his voice barely a whisper.

Sendoh tilted his head slightly to the side in question.

"What I am?" Rukawa added.

Sendoh looked momentarily surprised at the unexpected question. An attractive expression, Rukawa noted, on his usually controlled face. His eyes widened, his eyebrows lifted, and the perfect line of his lips parted enticingly. Like he could press forward and... touch them... claim them... except...

 _Goddamnit Kaede. Stop._

Sendoh hesitated, his face becoming rather more serious as he turned his thoughts to the vast implications behind Rukawa's seemingly small question. Then he let out his breath very slowly, and sat back.

Rukawa suppressed his urge to look around and continue to watch his expressions. The handsomeness of his face. The shape his eyes. The bow of his lips. Instead, he forced himself only to wait, staring at the ground. But he wanted him to speak. Desperately. He was both terrified and eager for the rejection that had to come.

No matter Sendoh's doubtless earnest desire to protect his feelings, the facts could not be argued against. What sort of slayer could care for - could _love? -_ a demon?

Rukawa twisted his fingers into the fabric of his kimono.

 _I am the very thing he hates. Why would I hope that he would do any more than tolerate my presence?_

 _We are just... working together_. _That's what Akira said. There's nothing else. Nothing else except the hunt._

 _We kill. That is all._

 _I shouldn't even have asked. What does it matter what he thinks of me?_

"I... don't know." Sendoh said finally, causing Rukawa's back to stiffen. "Honestly, at first I... couldn't accept it. Even now I can't really say for sure." He shifted his weight and let out a sigh that was anxious and unhappy. Rukawa found he could no longer resist turning his head slightly. Just a little. Just enough to see him from the corner of his eye. The look of real anguish on Sendoh's face at that moment caught him by surprise. Their eyes meet briefly, but Rukawa could not hope to hold his gaze, and quickly looked away. _You don't need to... force yourself. If you detest me then it is only right. It is all I deserve, and all I can ask._

"My whole life I've done nothing but hate them, Kaede." Sendoh hesitated over his words, struggling to explain. "I've... killed so many. Hundreds. Thousands, even. Every waking moment I feel like my mind is occupied by hate. Even when I sleep I... dream of death, of blood, of dark things and I..." he took a shuddering breath, "...honestly, sometimes I think that I am becoming a monster. And you... what you are it's... it's hard to... get my head around it." He looked up at Rukawa anxiously.

Rukawa felt a cold clench in his stomach. Around his heart. He relished in the sensation of his pain. Welcoming it. _I know. I know that. I know that it is... impossible._

But Sendoh continued. "But Kaede, I... see you. Talk with you. Want to be near to you. Care for you like I do, and Kaede I..." he took an anxious breath, "...the fact that I can love you makes me feel like there must be a part of me that is still..." he hesitated, "... still _human_." He looked up into Rukawa's face. "Do you... understand?"

There was a silence.

Rukawa parted his lips, but could find no words. A shameful hope squirmed anxiously in his chest.

 _I don't... want this. I... shouldn't. Why. Why do I feel this? He is... like a child... innocent and delicate and perfect, whilst I... I am a horror. I have no right. No right to touch him. To want him. To..._

Sendoh lifted one hand, his palm hovering an inch from Kaede's cheek, brushing against the meagre tips of his fringe. "I didn't even know," Sendoh confessed quietly, "that I could feel like this but... I do. You make me feel like I'm real, Kaede. You make me remember something that I used to be. Something... good. And not just this... broken thing I have become. And I think it is precisely because of... what you are that I... feel this way."

Rukawa looked away, suddenly inexplicably annoyed, and Sendoh dropped his arm back into his lap.

"Why did you bring me here?" Rukawa asked accusingly, struggling internally with the terrible weight of feelings Sendoh's voice caused in him. Why was he... tempting him like this? Making it so hard. So, so hard.

 _Just give me my rejection. Thrust me away from you. Tell me that I disgust you. Please. I can't... bear this._

Sendoh frowned and shrugged. Rukawa's suddenly cold manner drawing him up a little short. The atmosphere strained under Rukawa's intense displeasure. "Aida used to drag me down here," he explained. "He loved the fireworks. Always wanted me to come with him. I didn't like it. I couldn't see the point. But, looking at you now, I think I finally understand why he always wanted me to come and see this."

Rukawa still did not look at him. The silence became prickly,

Sendoh shuffled a little closer until his arm was pressing against Rukawa's. He tilted his head towards him. "You can't stay steeped in the darkness all the time. You allow yourself so little. You're so... unkind to yourself. I want more for you, Kaede. I want you to..." Sendoh trailed off and sighed. "Maybe I'm a hypocrite but I just want you to be in this world. Here, with me, for a moment. And not just... cycling through whatever nightmares you always dwell on."

Rukawa flushed, a little indignantly. "I don't-" he began to protest.

Before he could even finish, Sendoh had leaned forward and kissed him. A quick press of lips against his mouth. His words were cut off and his eyes widened in surprise. Sendoh drew back and considered his face.

"May I kiss you?"

Rukawa glared at him, annoyed, lifting the back of his hand to cover his mouth. "A bit late to be asking."

Sendoh smiled a little sadly. "Because I know you would say no."

Rukawa dropped his hand. "Then why did you-"

Sendoh leaned in and kissed him again.

Rukawa pulled back in surprise. "Just what do you think you are doing?" he demanded angrily.

Sendoh's expression was gentle. "You always deny it. But I know you feel the same as I do."

Rukawa's face turned dangerously thunderous. "You're imagining things," he growled, "Don't you dare do that aga-"

Sendoh's mouth met his for the third time. Rukawa lifted his hands to shove him off, pressing flat against Sendoh's chest, but at the last moment, his own body betrayed him. His hands refused to move. His own desire paralysed him. The pleasant nearness of Sendoh's body, large, strong, gentle, his actions honest and straightforward, was too much to deny.

Rukawa didn't move. Didn't kiss him back. Didn't anything.

He felt like all his worst nightmares were coming true but at the same time he could hardly... deny that this... this... was exactly what he'd wanted.

His heart hammered in his chest, his stomach twisting with anxious pleasure, his flat palms against Sendoh's chest gradually curled into fists knotted tightly in his robe to keep him close. Sendoh's hands lifted, hesitating at Rukawa's shoulders as if he wanted to take hold of him but wasn't sure he should.

 _Why doesn't he hold me?_ He wondered for a moment before the understanding burst on him abruptly. _Could it be that... he is concerned about... forcing me?_

The feeling in his chest intensified so he thought his heart would break. That even now, lost in a moment of desire like this, he would put Rukawa's feelings as his first consideration, felt like pure agony upon Rukawa's psyche.

 _He knows what Sakuragi did, and he..._

A strange twist of warmth filled him as Sendoh tilted his head slightly and began to kiss him more deeply. His mouth was soft and sweet.

 _...this is something totally different and I... I..._

He felt himself becoming lost in Sendoh's gentle kiss. Strangely disoriented, as the trees, the fireworks, the people nearby faded out of existence. The sword at his hip, the darkness of the night, the gate and the nightmares receded. And he was left with same hot frustration that rose upon him increasing and insistent.

 _Why? Why is he so gentle? I want him to hold me down, pin me down, force me. I want him to... hurt me._ The need for more grew over him rapidly.

 _I... I am the monster here._

His arms finally lifted and looped around Sendoh's neck of their own accord and he found himself pushing into Sendoh's warmth. Sendoh's hands settled gently on his back, large and warm and tender.

Rukawa tilted his head upwards, suddenly feeling wild, overcome, totally enslaved by the hot, pounding desire that flooded him. Giving himself completely over to Sendoh's control. He sought Sendoh's tongue with his own, pushing his way between his willing lips, hot and wet and intimate.

 _God... I can't… resist him._

 _I can't... keep pretending._

Rukawa's hands reached up, burying themselves in Sendoh's hair and holding him tightly against his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut furiously. He ran his tongue hot and wet and firm against Sendoh's, a soft, eager moan escaping his throat.

But then he felt Sendoh wince as he brushed against the wound left in the centre of his tongue by Sakuragi's nails.

Abruptly Rukawa broke away, coming back to his senses with a shock. His eyes widened and he pulled back, releasing his hold on Sendoh in surprise.

Sendoh opened his eyes slowly, as if reluctant to return to reality, and then merely observed him with a serious, thoughtful expression. The contours of his handsome face caught the lights of the fireworks above.

"I..." Rukawa began, stammering a little, his face flushed and red, his breath short. He couldn't think what to say to excuse himself.

But Sendoh merely smiled at him. "I like this side of you," he said quietly, lifting a hand to cup Rukawa's cheek. Rukawa moved his head out of reach and glared at him.

"Oh..." Sendoh dropped his hand. "I guess it's over." His smile didn't falter, "It was beautiful while it lasted."

Rukawa stared at him. "We... we can't do this."

Sendoh tilted his head. "Don't you want to?" He smiled again. The same reassuring, confident look that so perfectly masked whatever else he might have thought, or feared, or wanted. "I'm no expert but... I thought that kiss made it pretty clear."

Rukawa shook his head, "It's not that... it's just..."

"Please don't tell me it's because you're a demon."

Rukawa stared. Sendoh's expression seemed deceptively amused.

"But I... I am."

"And I already know that," Sendoh replied, shifting forward and drawing closer once again.

Rukawa stared at him apprehensively as he approached. "But-"

"No buts," Sendoh pressed his index finger against Rukawa's lips to silence him, leaning over him possessively. "I want you. Tell me you want me too."

"I..." Rukawa stammered, his words a kiss against Sendoh's finger. _I want you to tear me apart._ "...I think I..." _I want you to destroy_ _me. I want to be..._

 _something new._

 _Something... better._

 _For you._

 _But..._

Rukawa shook his head crossly and stood up, taking himself out of Sendoh's reach, forcing his face into a mask of irritation, furious at what he was doing. Had he lost his mind completely?

 _It's... for you that I..._

"Kaede," Sendoh met his unfriendly glare, his voice patient but not completely able to hide the flickering disappointment in his eyes. "What do I need to do to prove it to you? That my feelings are sincere? Don't treat me like a child."

Rukawa didn't reply. He turned as if he would leave, not even daring to allow himself to address Sendoh's question. The vast differences between them wasn't something he was brave enough to even contemplate.

"Must I die before you'll believe that I could possibly love you?" Sendoh demanded suddenly, his voice a little louder, and a little firmer, than he'd intended.

Rukawa froze where he stood. Sendoh regretted his rash utterance immediately and bit down regretfully on his tongue, but he couldn't retract it now that it had been loosed.

When Rukawa turned to face him, his expression had turned cold. His hand, Sendoh noticed at once, had drifted compulsively to his sword hilt as his thoughts turned back towards the darkness that Sendoh had meant to keep as bay. Any last trace of the gorgeous creature that had been hot and eager in his arms and against his mouth vanished once again.

Sendoh sighed despondently and turned his eyes back to the fireworks in the sky, wondering how to make it right.

Rukawa was so sensitive when it came to Sakuragi. Just the meanest mentioned of Sendoh's promised fate - Sakuragi's sworn intention to see Sendoh's heart impaled on the sword that Rukawa wore - was enough to sink him back into his usual mood of impenetrable blackness.

"I'm... sorry," Sendoh said. "But if you keep waiting, keep fighting against it, it'll be too late. The only time we have... is now. Am I wrong?" He risked glancing into Rukawa's face. "I don't want to waste this time that we have. That's... all."

 _I'm not like you, Kaede. I'm not going to live... forever._

Rukawa continued to glare at him as if Sendoh was trying to trick him.

A little irritation crossed Sendoh's thoughts. Knowing that the moment had already been lost, he decided to broach the problem head-on, and met his eyes resolutely. "Sakuragi," he announced abruptly, the name snapping in the air like a thunderclap, "talks like he owns you, did you know? He calls you a toy." He steeled himself against the torment that was momentarily visible in Rukawa's eyes at the sound of his words, and the corresponding discomfort in his own chest. He hadn't wanted to bring this up but it was difficult when Rukawa was so frustratingly stubborn. He forged on ahead despite his misgivings and the voice in the back of his mind telling him to stop before he crossed a line he couldn't defend. "Is it true?" He demanded. "Do you really belong to him?"

Rukawa's eyes, which had widened at the sound of that name falling so unexpectedly from Sendoh's lips, quickly narrowed again, and this time he appeared genuinely angry.

"Of course not," he managed to hiss between his teeth.

"Then why do you act like he does?"

"What are you taking about?" he retorted icily.

"You let him fill your every thought," Sendoh accused him, feeling a little angry and reckless himself. "You do nothing except feed your obsession with him. You allow him to manipulate you, torture you, and fool you into thinking you are so much less than you really are."

Rukawa's anger was on his face like a bloodless mask, his lips drawing into a cold, thin line, his eyes like black steel.

"You don't know anything," he snarled at him. "You have no idea how I..."

"I know that you won't give yourself to me because you're afraid that he is watching." Sendoh interrupted him, getting to his feet, impassioned by his frustration at Rukawa's self-imposed misery. "I know that you barricade yourself away from every little thing that could bring you happiness because you're frightened he will take it away from you. And you don't even seem to realise that by doing so, you are giving yourself to him." His voice rose in volume, becoming a little unsteady with the weight of his feelings. "You give him exactly what he wants every minute you spend hating yourself. You might as well crawl into his hands and beg him to love you."

" _Fuck_ you," Rukawa hissed vehemently, his eyes blazing with anger, visibly wrestling with his fury. "What the hell do you know?" He looked like he wanted to continue, moving his tongue against his teeth, wanting to say more but his words visibly failed him. Sendoh waited, hopeful that Rukawa might continue to engage with him. That he might be able, somehow, to succeed in making him understand. But after only a short second Rukawa only turned away and stormed off, leaving Sendoh alone under the night sky, each step he took crushing leaves and pine cones audibly under his angry stride.

Sendoh let out a long sigh and sat back down. He put his head in his hands and squeezed his eyes shut.

Truths were hard to hear, he reflected quietly. He hadn't any intention of hurting him and yet... it seemed obvious that Rukawa was strangling himself with his own despair. How could Sendoh reach him? _Help_ him? If his love, his touch, his complete and total devotion were not enough, then wouldn't the cold truth help to make him see? Maybe Rukawa would come round, come to understand that all Sendoh was trying to do was to help him. To... love him.

On the other hand, perhaps he'd never speak to him again. Sendoh's eyes took in the last of the fireworks, feeling strangely paralysed with the intensity of his feelings. With the anxiety that he'd let his frustration get the better of him. Fear that he might have... gone too far. Wondering if Rukawa were still nearby, keeping his usual watch, or whether this time Sendoh had genuinely driven him away.

He lifted his fingers thoughtfully to his lips.

He could taste him still. Sweet, golden, something so far beyond. Beautiful and clear and tantalising. One tiny little glimpse at something more. What was behind his eyes, behind his constant pain and all-consuming desire for revenge. Something more than his sword, his hurt, his anger at the world that had betrayed him.

And he had tasted... so... _so…_ sweet.

Sendoh traced his own lips as if he could somehow pick up every last trace of him on his finger.

An unexpected thought suddenly came to him.

 _I wonder if Sakuragi is really watching us?_

The thought made him smile a little to himself. He glanced around as if he might spot him hiding jealously in the shadows, but there was nothing to sense.

 _I actually... kind of hope so._

He recalled the words Sakuragi had dripped into his ear; _don't play with my toys._

His smile widened a little further. _I hope you can feel your hold on him slipping. I hope you realise that I am going to take him away from you. I hope the very idea fills you with fear._

He stood up slowly, straightening his clothes, and made to follow Rukawa.

 _Just wait until you see,_ he thought to himself. _What that 'toy' is capable of when he is unchained._

 _And as for myself..._ his fingers drifted to his sword hilt. _I fully intend to take my own chances on meeting your flesh with this blade of mine._

 _Because you are not the only one with a promise to keep, Sakuragi Hanamichi._

-tbc

* * *

 **ANs:** So it seems not many people enjoy this story. I don't want to beg for reviews or anything but... if you are reading and enjoying even a little bit, you honestly make my day if you take a moment just to say so. The same goes for any fics that you read in this very quiet category. Writing to a silent audience is a very painful experience, especially when it takes us so many (many!) hours of work. We don't get paid for this, it's a labour of love. Your time to write is a review is literally the only acknowledgement or vindication we receive for our efforts.

If you want to continue to read new stories about Slamdunk, please make an effort to support the creators. Readers and writers are so few in number in this fandom, we really must support one another. Thanks ._.

(I'll post this same message to my other on-going fic as well).


	10. Chapter 9

One chapter one scene. Haven't done that for a while :/ well what do you know.

Posting this despite its many imperfections because I'll probably lose my mind if I have to read it again. Isn't that how all editing goes? You edit and you edit until you physically cannot bear to do so any more hahaha haha ha ha... /dies

 **Demon  
** **Chapter 9**

 **Warning –** Lemonicious. Finally. Phew.

Sendoh sat on his futon and tried to listen to his sword. He didn't move. He closed his eyes. Breathed. Concentrated. Waited. An hour. Two hours.

Rukawa ran through his mind. The feel of him. The taste. That unbelievably transient moment when for that short time he'd allowed himself to give in to his desires. How he had whirled Sendoh into an inelegant, hungry mess with one casual release of his inhibitions.

Sendoh took a long breath. It was already late and he needed to concentrate. But Rukawa in his thoughts was impossible to ignore.

He sighed. Shook his head. The sword. The damn sword. He needed to achieve this somehow.

He tried again to concentrate. Time passed. The room was already dark and sleepy and numbing, the lanterns burning lower and lower. The night. He hadn't hunted in days, yet somehow he felt utterly exhausted. His eyes were heavy, his body so... tired...

A quiet noise startled him awake. He hadn't realised that he'd fallen into a doze. He sat straighter, noticing that the lanterns had gutted out and the room around him was almost pitch black. The soft sound of the door sliding closed, the warm drag of the wooden frame, filled his ears.

 _Innocence's_ blade rested on his limp hands in his lap. He set her aside.

"Kaede?"

He squinted. He could just about make out his outline, elegant and poised as he knelt silently by the door he had just closed. His head was bowed, his eyes fixed on the dark floor.

Sendoh immediately moved to the closest lantern to re-light it, bringing the soothing flicker of the flames back to the room. Shadows sprung up around them. Kaede's skin took on the warm orange glow of the fire light.

Sendoh stared at him. He was dressed in a plain blue robe, a white sash tight around his waist, simple and clean. His sword lay on the ground beside him, parallel to his thigh. He never went anywhere without it. His eyes were lowered, secretive behind his fringe. His hair a little damp with bathing.

Sendoh stared for a moment. Bathing? In the middle of the night?

Rukawa seemed to be in a strange mood. Tension surrounded him as he sat silent and unmoving. Moments passed but he made no indication of why he was there.

Sendoh grew concerned, memories of their disagreement resurfacing in his mind. "Are you... okay?" he asked. "Can't sleep?"

Rukawa took a visible breath.

"What you said..." he began, stopped, and fell back into silence.

Sendoh frowned. He retook his seat, kneeling by the futon. It seemed obvious that he had invaded Rukawa's mental space much the way Rukawa had invaded his. Still he worried that he'd perhaps really hurt him. Pushed him too far. And yet... Rukawa's mood didn't seem the same as his usual darkness whenever Sakuragi started preying on his mind. This seemed to be... something different.

Rukawa visibly shook himself, still not looking up. "What... you said..." he repeated, swallowed, and lifted his eyes, "...like you can remember being... something good."

 _That?_ Sendoh was internally surprised. _That is what's on his mind?_ He had been so sure it would be about Sakuragi again _._ But he only nodded silently and waited for him to continue. Rukawa's eyes turned to fix on him, seeming to plead for understanding, but Sendoh could not yet guess what he was trying to communicate. He could only fix his face into what he hoped was a reassuring expression.

Unhappily, Rukawa dropped his eyes again. "I..." his fingers curled where they rested on top of his thighs. "...I want to... feel like that," he admitted.

Sendoh's brows rose in surprise.

"Can you..." Rukawa continued as if determined to force the words out before he lost his momentum, "...I want to..."

His lips continued to move as if he were speaking, but there was silence. No words sounded as he struggled with himself. Sendoh knew he could do nothing but wait, though he leaned forward just a little bit.

"I just want to..." Rukawa took a breath, "...feel _innocent_ again."

Into silence his utterance faded. Sendoh didn't react at once. Such a strange confession. Something small and precious that he had kept hidden, there, close to him. Obscured behind violence and cold distance and regrets far beyond proportion.

Though it seemed a small and simple plea, it was, Sendoh realised, more precious than that. A small piece of truth. A tiny glimpse of his vulnerable soul.

Rukawa remained kneeling, supplicant and nervous, just waiting for Sendoh's response.

Sendoh did not know how to react.

 _Innocent...?_

His eyes dropped to the futon. What was Rukawa asking of him? What was he supposed to do about... that?

He wet his lips.

They seemed to him to be mirrors; their feelings oddly aligned. They were both stained and bloodied. Both broken and blackened. And Rukawa was... connected to him, somehow. And that which he desired - what he had come here into Sendoh's room to seek - could Sendoh understand it?

Yes, he realised. Of course. It wasn't all that hard. Although their experiences and the course of their lives was worlds different, in the things that mattered they shared more than they distinguished. They both were slayers. They were both trapped in a cycle of hunting and killing and revenge. They were both... tired. And yet they were both driven onwards against their will, forced to fight and struggle and _live_ even though it was all just endless, meaningless, damnable agony.

But... _Innocence_? What... was that? How could it be defined? Shown?

Sendoh was no way certain.

 _I know what I want to do. I want to love him. I want to be... a part of him. Be with him. Be as close as my pathetic physicality will allow. I want to... join my body to his._

 _But..._

 _...is that the right thing to do?_

 _Would that make him feel... innocent? Or would that be unwelcome to him?_

 _After what Sakuragi did I am afraid to hurt him. I don't want to make him remember, and yet..._

 _This is how he makes me feel. It is only honesty on my part. There should be no shame in loving him. There's nothing wicked about my intentions. Surely..._

 _...this thing - this love I carry for him - is something..._

 _...pure?_

 _Something innocent?_

 _But do my good intentions really make it right?_

He shook his head to himself. Wasn't it obvious? _I should just ask him._

"Kaede?"

Rukawa lifted his eyes.

Sendoh took a breath. "Truthfully, what I want is to... make love to you or..." he swallowed briefly as Rukawa's expression did not change, remaining neutral as he continued to gaze directly at him, "...receive your love if that's what you prefer. Either way I... I want to... share myself with you. Do you perhaps... also... want that?"

Rukawa's eyes closed as he breathed. He tilted his head slightly. "Yes," he admitted. His voice low and tired and yet somehow a little relieved.

Inside Sendoh's chest, a strange sensation bloomed. Happiness, yes. But there were other things too, less welcome. Immediate and unfamiliar. Anxiety. Pressure. He took a breath. He wondered if Rukawa had meant right now.

Rukawa did not elaborate, but slowly he leaned forward and lifted two hands to begin untying the knot in his sash. His meaning was unmistakable. Sendoh watched him silently, and saw that his hands were shaking.

 _He is afraid,_ Sendoh realised in astonishment.

He, who always appeared so completely and perfectly controlled. Who Sendoh had seen face down dangerous and powerful adversaries seemingly without fear. Yet in this room, facing nothing but Sendoh and the shadows of his own past, he was trembling. Sendoh felt his own heartbeat speeding up to a rapid staccato. _But in all honesty,_ he realised, _so am I._

 _I am terrified of hurting him._

 _Of this happening._

 _I have no idea how it will go. What he will feel. Whether he will understand._

He watched as the fabric of Rukawa's robe parted, slipping from one shoulder. Rukawa pulled the sash free and with his long fingers folded it neatly into a square and placed it carefully by his sword. Then he stopped, as if waiting for something, uncertain what to do next.

"Perhaps you should... come closer," Sendoh suggested, his throat uncomfortably dry.

Keeping his eyes on the floor, Kaede did as said, rising gracefully to his feet, the hem of his robe dragging against the ground as he moved towards the futon. His feet were bare, pale and elegant as a dancer as he walked, placing each carefully before the other against the tatami floor. With every step the robe slipped down his skin.

Sendoh's body responded immediately, despite all his misgivings and the uncertain swirling of his thoughts, his flesh was honest in its reaction to the sight of Rukawa's innocent motion.

With the last step the blue robe dropped fully to the floor and he stood bare, slender and willowy. Skin like snow, and eyes like fire.

He was extraordinary.

Sendoh was caught for a moment only gazing up at him, his pupils wide in the dim light, as if seeking to draw him in through the doors of his eyes.

"And you?" Rukawa asked, his voice only slightly unsteady.

When Sendoh did not move immediately, Rukawa stepped lightly onto the futon, the sheet twisting under the sole of his foot. He lowered himself to his knees directly in front of Sendoh so that they were eye to eye, his nakedness conflicting with Sendoh's clothed state. Rukawa leaned forward, rising partly to his knees, placing one hand onto Sendoh's thigh, and bringing his bare collar, neck and shoulders close so that Sendoh's breath caught. Rukawa's light weight pressed down on him as his other hand moved around Sendoh's waist, pulling apart the knot of his sash impatiently, and then pushing fabric away from his shoulders, revealing his tan, masculine lines and hard body, sculpted with muscle, powerful and strong.

Rukawa's tongue flickered subconsciously over his upper lip.

Unable to resist, Sendoh's arms went around him, one at his waist feeling the indescribable smoothness of his bare skin, the other reaching up gently into his hair, pulling him further forward into a kiss. Rukawa closed his eyes and allowed himself to be held.

Sendoh pressed him deeper, and their tongues met hungrily.

Sendoh groaned quietly as they sunk into one another, fitting perfectly. His whole body seemed to thrum with magnetic energy. Rigid and quivering with desire.

They kissed as Rukawa continued to push away the last of Sendoh's clothes, the fingers of his hand still tight on top of Sendoh's thigh, the tips of his nails pressing into the skin.

Once Sendoh was finally undressed, he broke away from Rukawa's shimmering lips and gazed at him dazedly.

"I've... never done this before..." Sendoh admitted softly. Rukawa did not react, watching him, his cheeks a little flushed. There seemed to Sendoh to be so much skin, the two of them naked and lit by the flickers of the lantern. Soft, like silk, the parts of them usually secreted behind their clothes. Heat, friendly and comforting, radiated from each of them. It seemed a very natural, very _human_ state to be in.

The fact that his partner was no such thing seemed an utterly ridiculous notion.

"Have... have you?" Sendoh asked him uncertainly. "Made love, I mean."

Rukawa was silent for a long moment and Sendoh could practically see him thinking it through.

Eventually he shook his head.

Sendoh could not help but smile. "Then... we can learn together," he suggested softly. "Let's go slowly. Okay?"

"...okay..." Rukawa said, but his voice was low and tempestuous and it didn't sound like he intended to do anything of the sort.

Sendoh leaned in closer and brushed their lips together with a gentle smile, his eyes soft. _I have no intention of facilitating your self-destructive leanings, Kaede. I think I know you well enough by now._

 _If you think you can bruise yourself against my love, you are wrong. I bear no thorns for you._

They drew together, with a tender shift of their embrace. All skin and gentleness. Rukawa closed his eyes and surrendered to Sendoh's lead. Sendoh's lips trailed across his collarbone teasingly until Rukawa's head lolled back with a pleasant sigh, his angles softening, all his strength coming quietly undone.

Sendoh knew he was going to struggle to hold back. Considering the way Rukawa looked at that moment; the arch of his neck, the willing openness of his body.

 _You can tempt me,_ Sendoh told himself firmly. _But I won't give in. You're so much more than you pretend to be. And I... I have something to prove._

His kisses drew a soft moan from Rukawa's throat and Sendoh felt himself react to it dangerously strongly. But he forced himself to breathe, go slowly, remain steady. His hands ran soothingly over his arms, taking hold of his shoulders, guiding him back against the sheets.

Though he tolerated Sendoh's carefulness, Rukawa's motions held a more reckless momentum, as if speed could force him through his barriers, as if he sought to pull Sendoh along with him into chaos. He seemed eager to push onwards, keen not to think too much or look too closely at what they were doing, even while Sendoh was doing the opposite and struggling to hold them back.

Sendoh leaned over him, pinning him gently, putting their lips together, and kissing him in an attempt to slow himself down. But it was hard when Rukawa's lips parted for him, drawing him under, long and deep until they were both breathless. Rukawa's hands wandered across his back, a rapid draw of tantalising fingers that raised shivers over his skin. Sendoh teased him slowly back with lips that whispered an adoration of kisses against his mouth, willing him to slow, to feel, even if only a fragment of what Sendoh was feeling for him.

But Rukawa did not intend to slow. He lifted one knee, setting his foot flat against the futon, laying his thigh comfortably against Sendoh's side, turning his body into him, bringing them into a flusher contact so that Sendoh could feel them pressing against one another at a hundred points, and at every place it was like fire was trying to burn its way through his self-control and out of his body. Desperate and hungry and dangerous. Still, he held it back.

 _Though there is darkness in me, a beast at my centre, I won't hurt you, Kaede. That monstrous side of me will not touch you._

He swallowed briefly.

 _I will prove that to you. I will prove it to myself._

He trailed his fingers down Rukawa's side instead, feeling him squirm a little beneath him at the ticklish sensation. Kissing his neck in apology, he brought his hands down to his hips and then hesitated.

"Kaede?" he spoke into the hollow of his neck.

"Hm?" Fingers knotted their way into Sendoh's hair.

"Are you... sure?"

A confused silence lasted a moment, before Rukawa nodded. "Yes."

"This is... I mean... do you really... want this...?"

The fingers in his hair tightened. "Yes."

"If you... want to stop... you'll tell me, right?"

Another silence followed. "Yes."

Sendoh could feel the heady pulse in Rukawa's neck against his lips.

"Promise?"

The fingers tugged at his hair, pulling Sendoh away so that their eyes could meet and Sendoh found himself facing down the sheer strength of Rukawa's resolve. He could barely meet his eyes at that moment; dark and burning and ancient. "I promise."

Sendoh managed to smile down at him, despite feeling strangely weak. "Okay. Just... don't forget."

His hand trailed across the front of Rukawa's hips and took his arousal into a gentle fist. With their faces still nose to nose, Sendoh had the privilege of seeing Rukawa's expression of surprise at that moment. The way his darkness seemed to retreat as if startled, his eyes clearing, a wondrously youthful expression coming over him. A short gasp escaped him at the unexpected feeling, his brilliant eyes widened, his lips parting.

"My god, you're beautiful," Sendoh couldn't hold back the thoughts that spilled from his tongue. He pushed forward, eager to kiss him again as Rukawa's eyes fluttered closed with a quiet whine of pleasure, Sendoh's hands moving gently over him.

As Rukawa settled deeper into the softness of the bed, giving himself up to Sendoh's control, relaxing into the sensations Sendoh was stirring, Sendoh raised himself and began to kiss a trail down Rukawa's chest. He maintained the unhurried caresses of his hands, not fast enough to build, but a calming, pleasant motion. Finally he repositioned himself and with a dip of his head, opened his lips to lap at the beads of desire that had gathered at the tip of Rukawa's hardness.

A strangled noise came from Rukawa's throat. Sendoh paused, and drew back.

"Are you okay?"

" _Yes-_ ," he hissed, irritated.

Sendoh smiled and then drew him fully into his mouth by slow inches, so that with every increment Rukawa's hands fisted and relaxed and fisted and relaxed, the sounds of his pleasure escaping as small and uncertain whines and breaths.

Sendoh brought his hand up and under his thigh, his fingers hesitating. He couldn't help it, drawing back once again, setting his eyes on Rukawa's face.

"Kaede?"

"It's fine."

"Are you sure?"

" _Akira-"_ he let out another growl of impatience.

Sendoh dropped his head again, tasting him, distracting him, letting his fingers move to brush against his entrance curiously.

Rukawa let out a long, steady breath, forcing himself to remain still.

Sendoh pressed gently, but Rukawa's muscles did not naturally give way. He drew back, brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked on them, hoping it might make it easier. As he did so, he took a moment to assess Rukawa's expression. His eyes were closed, his brows tense, breathing through his mouth so his chest rose and fell. He looked more like he was holding himself together than enjoying himself, and it made Sendoh feel intensely guilty.

"Kaede..?"

A ferocious furrowing of his brows and an irritated hiss of air warned Sendoh, and he bit back his question.

His saliva, he found, was barely sufficient. One finger, and Rukawa's body was hot and rough and resistant. A second and he knew he was causing discomfort by the way Rukawa's breathing hitched and changed. He withdrew them.

 _I don't want to hurt him... I... what should I...?_

He lifted his eyes to the room, searching for anything that might facilitate this.

Eventually his eyes fell on _Innocence_ and he leaned over and picked her up from where she lay, her still naked blade warm in the lantern light.

Hearing and sensing his movement, Rukawa's eyes opened and he lifted his head to see what he was doing.

Sendoh ran his thumb down the length of the sharp steel with a quiet _shk_ of sound. Rukawa's eyes widened at his strange action. "Akira?"

Sendoh glanced up into Rukawa's face with an eyebrow lifted in question as if he hadn't done anything out of the ordinary. Blood, red and brilliant, was pooling in his palm from the fresh score over his thumb. Rukawa stared at him.

With their eyes still locked together, Sendoh brought his wounded thumb back under Rukawa's body and pressed it slickly between the ring of his muscles. The pain of the pressure on the wound caused Sendoh to wince.

"You..." Rukawa began in annoyance, but Sendoh managed a boyish smile.

"Does it feel any better?"

Rukawa cursed softly and let his head fall back again. Sendoh began to move his fingers gently, the flow of blood reducing the friction, and even though Rukawa still sometimes winced, Sendoh did too. And somehow it seemed a little fairer that way.

* * *

Rukawa stared at the ceiling and waited for the pain. That was why he had come here. To this room. This night. His guilt at being weak before his desires mitigated by the thought that it would... hurt.

He could remember it; a searing agony. When he glanced down at himself he saw a canvas, white and unmarked. Fresh. Ready for the patterns of pain to rise upon it in sharp spirals. Make it resemble more accurately what he was. Broken, twisted, wretched thing. Penance for all his uncountable sins.

So he rested on the sheets and waited. Laid out like a sacrifice. Beautiful, perhaps. But he was black inside.

At each brush of fingers he imaged Sendoh's nails were knives drawing blood by his touch, and he shivered with anticipation.

He could feel the blackness moving, like a living thing. Snaking through the air in the room, around his mind, polluting and noxious. The pain, he thought, would drive it out. If he could let himself break under Sendoh's power. Crack and fragment, and cut the sin out of his soul like a cancer. Be free of its weight, momentarily, if only in a state of sheer agony. That. The pain, tearing and terrible. He waited for that.

But.

But somehow it wasn't quite as he had expected. There was blood, yes. But it wasn't his. It was red and smeared like paint on his skin. Like he were art and Sendoh the artist that was moulding him into some new form. Sealing the cracks in him, working his way over him, his fingers against his body like clay, pressing, shaping, changing.

Even the sensation of being filled, stretched, and violated was not as he remembered. Shame and tears and despair as his pride was ground down like chalk under Sakuragi's heel. No. It was not at all like that. Sendoh's touch was so gentle, so tentative. More like nurture than a knife. Enough to made Rukawa feel oddly soothed.

And the pain..?

The pain was nothing. Discomfort, perhaps. A little unnatural and odd. But pain, no. Hardly that. Not like he remembered. Not like he'd wanted.

Even as Sendoh finally entered him fully, joining them finally, stretching him beyond the meagre width of his fingers, he slid almost smoothly, almost without resistance at all, like he was slipping into a shoe of custom fit, and the breath on Rukawa's lips stilled in disbelief. He closed his eyes, gasped, moaned quietly.

And good. Good. It felt so good. Like all his parts were being drawn together into one intense wholeness. Like Rukawa was for that moment something... real.

He had thought it impossible that he should feel like this. He was broken, wasn't he? Hadn't his ability to feel... _this_... been obliterated? Then why had Sendoh been able to coax him to this place, into this realm of flesh and pleasure, so easily? It had taken next to nothing, he thought, to bring him here. To pull him to the point where he was losing himself to the ecstasy of his body. His mind had tried to deny this for so long, frightened to discover that he had lost the ability to feel, to love, to be alive. And now he was helpless to his own pleasure. Gasping and moaning and chanting Akira's name softly, his legs stretched wide, not even able to feel shame at his desperation, the sweat of his skin, the arch of his back, his open hunger.

If this was a game, he had lost it. But he didn't seem to care. He only offered himself more, his body moving instinctively to feed itself, soaking in its own desires, silently begging Sendoh to go harder, go deeper, knowing he was rushing upon an edge, and eager to throw himself from those dizzying heights.

"Kaede-" Sendoh's breath was ragged in his ear. "I- I-"

It was too much.

The sounds became meaningless. Rukawa's fingers twisted in his hair, his toes curling, his whole body pulsing beyond his control.

He lost contact with reality even as Sendoh was whispering breathy adoration into his ear. There was all at once no futon at his back, no lanterns, no old house and musty smells of damp. No rumpled clothes or discarded swords. Nothing but Sendoh Akira and Sendoh Akira and oh- _oh_ -

 _oh_.

Flying, for a few precious seconds, drifting weightless and free within the air of his own mind, and the limited stretch of his body.

Then they tumbled down together, holding one another as they spiralled downwards, and Rukawa had only the vague and useless thought of wishing that his wings were still soft enough to embrace him as they fell.

Slowly, all around them, the room returned.

They lay panting into the empty silence, their breathing suddenly seeming unnaturally loud.

Rukawa turned his face into the slick and sticky skin of Sendoh's shoulder, enjoying Sendoh's weight pinning him down. All skin and sweat and love.

Finally he felt Sendoh's fingers moving in his hair.

"Are you all right?" he was asked once again.

A smirk of amusement flickered at the corner of Rukawa's lip. "Yes," he whispered back.

Then they rested.

* * *

Sendoh drifted in and out of a doze, his palms resting possessively on Rukawa's bare skin. His leg. Perhaps his arm. It didn't make any difference. Neither asleep nor awake, but aware of him there, attuned to the sound of his breath, knowing and seeking and wanting even now.

Rukawa, ankles tangled up with Sendoh's, lay awake and silent, watching him quietly, his cheek pressed to the bed, his body resting heavy, front down against the mattress. Though he felt sated and relaxed, somehow he didn't want to sleep.

Instead he watched Sendoh, reaching out with one tentative hand to brush his shoulder, his arm, trying to ground himself in reality. Looking into Sendoh's sleeping face, tracing the fading lines of sweat, the vague flicker of his smile, the shape of his existence.

He was stuck at that moment with a sadness so deep and profound it was like an ocean swelling in his gut. How could it be that this person, this perfect, precious soul that he had somehow found himself bound to, could consider himself so expendable? So unworthy of being saved? Why, Rukawa wondered, doesn't he see it? What he is? How beautiful? How important?

Something stung in his soul as he recalled the fireworks they'd sat and watched together; Sendoh's words to him, his belief in him, hopes for him.

The irony caught him sharply.

How could it be that though they were both unable to love themselves, they could love one another? What did it mean? Would it be... enough?

He had found reason to exist in him. Everything he'd thought he was fighting for has been turned around, unrecognisable. All he could see was Sendoh Akira. Knowing clearly how willingly he would throw himself away just to protect this fragile existence. How wretched Rukawa felt, and how magnificent Sendoh appeared.

How utterly astonishing to realise that Sendoh... would feel the same way about him. Would see it backwards. Would be reckless with his own soul with the notion of somehow saving Kaede's.

How beautiful it was. And how much it hurt to know the truth.

For in the end, it was undeniable. Unavoidable. True.

Sendoh Akira was going to die.

If not now, then eventually. Inevitably. No matter what. And either Rukawa would be left alone in his agony, or he could pray to any god that still cared that by some miracle he might die too.

Seeing Sendoh's transience so clearly, red blood on the sheets, smeared against his skin, made Rukawa realise it more strongly than ever. That he was not blessed with endless life, but cursed to endure a never-ending death. And to go back to what he had been before, wholly without meaning... he could not accept it. To be without Sendoh, he reflected, was simply to not be.

And yet, to die. Such a thing should not be so hard.

Perhaps if he could goad Sakuragi into taking the soul out of his body...?

He let out an inaudible sigh.

No. Impossible. Sakuragi would never be so merciful as that.

He closed his eyes for a moment.

 _Damn._

He became aware of Sendoh stirring, drifting once again close to waking, enough that his eyes fluttered open to see Rukawa there, only watching quietly, and Sendoh smiled at him.

"Tell me something," Sendoh mumbled hazily, seeing that he was still awake, lifting his hand to run his fingers lightly over the bare skin of Rukawa's back.

He looked so magnificent in the lantern light that Rukawa couldn't turn his eyes away. He remained magnetic even in rest. The curve of his arms, shoulders, the shape of the muscle in his chest, his stomach, his thighs. Rukawa's body felt eager to feel his touch; his skin prickling with want.

As if sensing his need, Sendoh's fingers continued to stroke him gently, brushing, adoring, sliding over him like silk. Wondering how there was not a single mark on Rukawa's porcelain skin. And at every place he touched, Rukawa felt warm and soothed and contented.

Sendoh smiled again as he felt his mind clearing of sleep. His body reacted to Rukawa's closeness. Straining for him all over again, refusing to be sated. Even though they'd already joined so eagerly, Sendoh could not rein in his desire. It was as if Rukawa were an aphrodisiac upon him. His very own moon poppy. Teasing and beguiling and leading him down a winding path of lust.

Rukawa's eyes watched him quietly, expectantly. Dark behind the fall of his fringe. Half-lidded and seductive.

Sendoh wondered if he could be driven into madness by this. It was like having a god twisted in his sheets. Powerful and tempestuous. This utterly gorgeous thing. Half angel, half demon.

No wonder, Sendoh thought abruptly, Sakuragi Hanamichi was so infatuated with him.

"Tell you what?"

Rukawa's voice brought him back to the present moment. Smooth over his senses.

"Tell me..." Sendoh shuffled closer to press his lips against Rukawa's back, moving them in soft kisses over his skin, adoring him helplessly, "...everything. About you. Everything."

A quiet rush of air escaped Rukawa that might have been amusement. "Impossible," he replied. "What do you want to know?"

Sendoh drew back to inspect Rukawa's back curiously. He ran his fingers over the expanse of skin, feeling his ribs, spine, touching the place he thought those wings ought to be. "Okay then... where do your wings go? There's nothing here."

"That's your question?" Rukawa pursed his lips slightly. "I don't know," he answered carelessly and turned his head away. Sendoh eyed the exposed length of his neck for a moment before leaning in to put his teeth against it. He caught the skin in his bite and suckled on it.

"It takes effort" Rukawa explained, his voice fracturing as Sendoh teased at his neck, "to... _ah_... maintain them here... mmmm... in this realm it feels more natural... to be in… _ah_ … this form..." his fingers curled in the sheets, and he tilted his head further, offering more of his neck to Sendoh to mark.

Sendoh accepted the invitation, bringing himself closer, letting his hands move soothingly over him, running irresistibly over his back, his sides. Rukawa's acceptance of his touch was casual and easy. As if they'd done this a thousand times before. As if this state were completely natural to both of them.

Sendoh lifted himself from the bed and mounted him from behind, unable to resist the temptation. Rukawa parted his thighs willingly as Sendoh positioned himself between them, his arousal once again pressing against his skin. Rukawa sent a warm and expectant look over his shoulder, pressing back in invitation.

"Then tell me, how old are you?" Sendoh asked as he pushed his way gently back into Rukawa's body, feeling him give way easily before his motion, already slick and slippery with their earlier joining.

There was no immediate response. A soft moan of pleasure, and Rukawa's hands twisting the fabric of the bed, clinging on tightly as Sendoh filled him.

Drawing back and pushing in, Rukawa's knees shifting on the sheets.

"Kaede?"

"Uh..." his breath came in pants, without answer.

"How old are you...?" Sendoh repeated.

"I don't... know exactly…" he muttered evasively.

Sendoh reached around and with his hand caught hold of Rukawa's own hardness in a fist, squeezing it tenderly, causing Rukawa to whine anxiously.

"Then guess."

"By your... standards...?" Rukawa gave a shudder, "Old. Very... old... _ah_..." Sendoh moved his hand leisurely, " _Akira..."_ he moaned helplessly.

"A hundred years?" Sendoh suggested.

Rukawa pressed his face down into the bed, muffling the noises that were wrenched from his throat. He didn't reply.

Sendoh stilled, slowing his pace until he stopped completely. On one side squeezing him, on the other stretching him. Motionless. Rukawa trembled helplessly beneath him.

"Well?"

Rukawa gave a soft whine of complaint, and turned his head so he could look up at Sendoh from the corner of his eye. "Many hundreds of years," he said reluctantly.

Sendoh was surprised. "Really?" He gave an abrupt thrust forward that made Rukawa gasp. "More than five hundred?"

"Yes..."

He drew back. "More than a thousand?"

Rukawa shook his head. "Yes. Probably, I suppose..."

Sendoh stopped again as a thought came to him.

"So how long have you been hunting?"

Rukawa's eyes flickered open, so Sendoh knew he'd heard, but he didn't answer.

Perhaps he ought to have been awed by the sheer expanse of time that Rukawa had seen. But Sendoh found himself more curious about quite how far the history between Rukawa and Sakuragi went back. The number of years they had spent dancing around each other, obsessing over each other. But he knew better than to press Rukawa about it.

When it became clear Rukawa would not answer him, he began again to move until the sound of Rukawa's moans filled him, prickles of release playing in his veins, teasing him onwards, led and heightened and orchestrated by the sounds in Rukawa's throat and the feel of his skin under his hands. Sendoh leaned down and ran his tongue along his spine, hot and ticklish, and Rukawa pressed back against him in return.

 _More than a thousand years…_ it felt surreal and meaningless. He couldn't comprehend such a length of time, it was beyond his reckoning. Right then, Rukawa didn't seem any different to him. Just a soul making love to another soul. Warm and real.

They moved together easily, their bodies matching each other, until Rukawa tipped over the edge with a shuddering groan and Sendoh soon followed.

He dropped tiredly alongside Rukawa once again, who continued to look at him quietly, curiously, as if unable to take his eyes away.

"What do you mean 'by my standards'?" Sendoh asked in a mumble, drifting through the cloud of pleasure, his mind in two places. Curious over things he didn't know, and yet half numb to everything except the salt on his tongue and the body mere inches away that still drew him like a magnet. "What about by your standards?"

"We are young," Rukawa answered with a shrug. "Merely apprentices. All of us were born into this age."

"Apprentices?" Sendoh mumbled aloud, putting two hands on Rukawa's hips and turning him over gently. His eyes were helpless to the sight of Rukawa's body, fascinated by him laying there, naked and easy. The thought that he could touch him, make him moan, make him so heady and lethargic and sated, seemed pleasantly surreal. Yet he gave a soft groan of complaint even as his eyes were busy roaming across his skin. "Kaede, there's so much I don't know. It's maddening."

Kaede lifted a hand and ran his palm along his jaw softly, in silent sympathy.

Sendoh's eyes flickered over him, his fingers moving back to his spent erection and brushing teasingly along its underside, causing it to react and fill almost at once. He smirked a little. "Are you really still unsatisfied?" he teased him.

Rukawa stared at him silently, and Sendoh rose from his place, bringing his lips once again down to the head. He licked it, salty and smooth. Rukawa watched him through half-lidded eyes.

Sendoh took a breath. "Tell me about the watchers," he said.

Silence. After a long moment he lifted his eyes to assess Rukawa's expression. It was carefully blank.

"How long have you been waiting to ask that?" Rukawa asked.

"A while," Sendoh admitted. Even now he could remember Sakuragi's words; _this is a sword of the watchers... a strange sword for one of the fallen._

Rukawa let out a sigh that cut off as Sendoh's mouth opened and took him tenderly inside. Rukawa bit down on his lower lip to cut off the noise of his pleasure and tossed his head anxiously, his hands pawing at the sheets, torn between sated exhaustion and continuing desire that built and flared and built again. He did not know how many times Sendoh could possibly throw him from the edge, but at this moment he was not unwilling to find out.

From his position down by his hips, Sendoh still managed to send him an expectant look, one brow quirked, his lips gentle around Rukawa's shaft.

"You want me to explain _now_?" Rukawa managed.

"Uh hmm," Sendoh's agreement was a mischievous hum in his throat.

Rukawa let out another breath of air, bringing an arm across his forehead in aspiration even as Sendoh began to move his head, drawing pleasure back into an unsteady, concentrated swirl.

"I don't know where to begin." Rukawa complained, observing Sendoh with one eye from behind his arm. In encouragement, Sendoh continued to gently sooth him with his tongue.

Finally Rukawa closed his eyes in defeat.

"All right, but I need to... start from the beginning," he explained, somewhat breathless as Sendoh moved patiently along his length. Rukawa considered for a little longer before he spoke, and when he did, his voice was as if he were reciting something learned by heart. Dull histories. And yet to his words Sendoh attended in fascinated curiosity.

"They say that in the first age there was peace," Rukawa began. "Two realms; the earth, and the heavens. But when a group of angels rebelled against the council, they were exiled. They - the fallen - established for themselves a third realm and there brought forth the demon spawn over whom they rule and which they command. And so the second age was one of war."

He paused, and Sendoh, who had stilled to listen, drew back to glance up at him. Rukawa's eyes had turned strangely distant as his mind turned down whatever dusty roads such topics arrested in him. Sendoh's hands replaced his mouth and began to stroke him soothingly, bringing him back to the present.

"The fallen… made the demons?" he asked to clarify. It seemed strange. Rukawa and Mitsui were fallen too, but they did not seem to be the same as the fallen in Rukawa's story. Sendoh tilted his head in puzzlement.

Seeming to sense his question, Kaede answered it. "Hisashi and I are weak, nothing, mere pimples, compared to the Kings of Hell. They are... truly ancient. Countless millennia old."

Sendoh thought briefly of Sakuragi Hanamichi. He was monstrously strong, but he wasn't one of the fallen. After all, Sendoh could sense him, which meant he was what Kogure had called _hellspawn_. Black blooded demons. Which meant that the fallen Rukawa was referring to were more powerful still.

"So these Kings of Hell," Sendoh mused curiously, "could walk through this room right now, and I wouldn't be able to sense them?"

Rukawa nodded silently.

Sendoh took a moment to try to digest this, but it was futile. Though he understood the words, it was impossible to truly appreciate what it all meant. It made him feel rather small.

"So, uhm, what happened?" Sendoh prompted. "You said there was war?"

"For thousands of years," Rukawa confirmed. "The demons slaughtered everything in their path. Angels, mortals. They say the worlds turned black and the skies cried blood."

"That," Sendoh realised, "was in Anzai's book. It said something about the silver blood of angels soaking the land."

Rukawa gave a brief nod.

"But I thought angels were really strong? How could the demons slaughter them like that?"

"Strong..?" Rukawa considered, "Yes perhaps in a way, but they are not warriors; fighting is against their nature."

"So what did they do?"

"They made an alliance so they could drive the demons back."

"An alliance?" Sendoh leaned forward excitedly. "With who?"

Rukawa's eyes met his. "Who do you think? With the slayers."

Sendoh's eyes remained fixed on him eagerly, "You mean, slayers like you?"

Rukawa shook his head pointedly. "No. I mean slayers like you."

Sendoh's eyes widened. On this stage of immortals, thousand year wars, and mysteries beyond his reckoning, he had somehow forgotten his place in the world. "Really?" He lay back, propping up his chin with one hand idly, gazing up at Rukawa with undisguised adoration, his free hand still moving leisurely over his body. "Tell me."

"The watchers," Rukawa told him, "were angels sent to support mortal slayers. Though they could not fight directly, they had small magicks that could be used in defence." Rukawa moved his hand, his voice becoming a little more animated. "Their swords drew their energy and stored it as magick. Then they could use it to support the slayer who in turn acted as their weapon." His eyes visibly brightened as he imagined the battles playing out before his eyes. "Small magicks could make all the difference. Simple little tricks. Each day they would use and save and use again little pieces of their own life energy and... it... it worked. Angels and mortals together were able to gradually drive the demons back."

Sendoh considered this quietly. "So you mean the watchers are like... guardian angels?"

Rukawa didn't respond. His eyes fixed on the wall as if seeing something there, shadows of the past moving in the lantern light.

"It was all over long before my time," he said finally, something a little heavy in his voice. "The angels eventually retreated to their own realm, leaving the mortals to fend for themselves. Then began the age of isolation."

Sendoh tilted his head. "Why did the angels leave?"

Rukawa shrugged. "They thought they were safe. The demon armies were just scattered remnants by then. Broken, stupid, disorganised monsters. Dangerous to humans, perhaps. But not to us. The watchers were dissolved." Rukawa's expression turned black. "But without the angels' support, the mortals could not hope to control the demon numbers. Yet the council were prideful, and totally convinced that no demon would ever again be strong enough to hunt an angel."

He trailed off, and the unspoken conclusion lay heavy in the air.

"I see," Sendoh said quietly, knowing already what had happened. Sakuragi's prideful boasting still rung in his ears. No demon had been strong enough to hunt an angel... until Sakuragi had proved them wrong. And Kaede had been the one to suffer for it.

Rukawa had fallen into silence.

Sendoh lowered his eyes, regretful that they'd once again ended up in the same place, mired in the same darkness, chasing Rukawa's past around in circles, somehow never seeming able to escape from it.

"You said there are no more watchers," he pointed out finally. "But you... you are a watcher, are you not?"

Rukawa slowly looked over at him. "Hardly," he answered. "I am abusing their legacy for my own ends. That's all."

Sendoh thought about this. "But... you are mine," he protested softly. "You... protect me, don't you? You were there in the tavern that day..." he frowned in realisation. "No, even before that, there were five demons in the alleyway. I thought I was dead for sure but... that was you too, wasn't it?"

He thought back to that day. Somehow Kaede must have known that the gate would open then, and there. That was why he'd been there, ready. That was why he'd appeared, to protect Sendoh, that day. The day the gate had opened.

Rukawa looked uncertain as to whether he ought to confirm or deny it. But Sendoh's face broke into a smile. He moved closer, eagerly pressing his lips against Rukawa's. Drawing back he whispered softly, "You're my guardian angel, right, Kaede?"

Rukawa's fingers caught in his hair and he tilted his head temptingly. "I'm no angel," he countered softly.

Sendoh was amused. He ran his hands across Rukawa's shoulders and kissed him lightly. "But, the magick in the sword… you're storing it up, right?"

Rukawa nodded silently.

"I don't need to use the magick," he explained, "because I can fight. Not like the watchers of the past. So if I can store enough, then maybe..." he gave an uncertain shrug.

Sendoh considered this. If Rukawa could collect enough power in the blade of _Akira,_ then would it really be enough to give him some kind of advantage over Sakuragi? Sakuragi, Sendoh recalled vaguely, hadn't seemed to think so.

"So..." Sendoh mused thoughtfully, "...you can only use it if I'm there, because the magic can only be used in my defence, is that right?"

"Yes," Rukawa admitted reluctantly. Sendoh heard the guilt in his voice and smiled softly in reassurance.

"But what will happen to all the magick if I die?"

Rukawa's eyes met his. Sendoh gazed back calmly. It was pointless to pretend. Sakuragi could erase him in seconds. Hadn't he done the same to Aida? One wave of his hand was all it would take to eliminate Sendoh from this world.

Rukawa took a breath. "Then the magick cannot be released, and the sword is useless."

"So that's why you have been protecting me," Sendoh deduced. "You need to keep me alive until you have the chance to release the magick on Sakuragi."

Rukawa's face was momentarily anguished. He looked like he wanted to protest. To say that it wasn't so. But the truth of it was obvious. Why else had he pulled Sendoh and only Sendoh out of the tavern that day? Why else had he taken him into his home, fought beside him, protected him, hidden him, followed him, suffered for him?

Was it meant to be love? Compassion? Kindness? Sendoh's eyes drifted over to _Akira_ and he smiled sadly.

The connection between them was real enough, yet it was artificial, false, a mere byproduct of Rukawa's plan.

And yet he didn't mind. This was enough. That he could be in some way useful to him. That he could touch his skin and worship his body. Why would it not be enough? He felt dizzy with pleasure, even just by knowing that he had deliberately spoken Sakuragi's name aloud and Rukawa had had no reaction at all. Hadn't seemed to even notice. That, if he was nothing else, at the least Sendoh was able to keep at bay a little – even just a little – of the darkness.

Beside him, Rukawa looked discomforted, unhappy at being forced to confront the reality of the situation. Faced with the fact that in order to follow through with his plan, he would need to put Sendoh in danger, like bait. A diversion. A mere pawn in a chess game of kings. And seeing his expression, Sendoh just couldn't resist pushing him back down against the sheets, his body reacting hungrily to him, his fears, his anxiety. The gasp on Rukawa's lips was like an aphrodisiac upon him. Eager to lose himself again, plundering his mouth and his body for satiation of his desires.

Rukawa's watched him through his lashes, concerned perhaps, but this time it was Sendoh who didn't want to wait, or slow, or think. He was grateful when Rukawa shifted his weight to allow his legs to part, reaching out with his hands to grasp Sendoh tightly in a fist, driving everything out of his mind.

Sendoh closed his eyes and hissed softly at the sensation, then bent lower to catch his lower lip lightly between his teeth, tugging at it until Rukawa squirmed.

Sendoh moved to press his nose into his neck. It was ridiculous, how utterly gorgeous he was. How hopelessly enslaved Sendoh felt.

"I love you," he said seriously. "Kaede, do you know that?"

Rukawa opened his mouth to respond, but Sendoh didn't wait for him to speak. Instead he leaned in and kissed him hard. "May I...?" he muttered, his lips pressed tight against Rukawa's, pushing his thighs further apart with the flat of his palms.

"Please-" came the murmured response, long fingers digging into the muscles of his back, holding him tightly, inviting him in.

Sendoh sucked in another breath, his body humming with need, sinking into him slowly. His eyes went momentarily sightless with the sensation of his burning heat, the rumbling, rolling pulse of Rukawa's body surrounding him deafeningly. Primal and dangerous and utterly beautiful. The words and explanations disintegrated into half-formed waves and mists. Strange unrealities so far at odds with his overwhelming realness. This ephemeral thing was so physical and so very alive.

 _I just need to stay alive until he can release the magic. That's all. That's what I have to do._

He leaned down and pressed the side of his face against Rukawa's chest, hearing the beating of his heart, the rush of the air in his lungs.

 _That's all I can do._

 _That's all I am… worth._

 _I was only ever… a tool for him to use._

 _And that. I don't mind it. I don't mind. I don't mind._

He breathed out, in, as he continued to move, drifting in some other world, his mind neither here nor there, erasing his concerns in the ebb and flow of Rukawa's body. And all at once, he heard it. A sound that was sad. Something low and persistent, like a song, something lost, something hurt.

He recognised it. It echoed in his head, sounding strangely amplified where his ear pressed against Rukawa's chest, as if the song came through him. But it was not a song from Kaede. Sendoh straightened in surprise.

Rukawa opened an eye to look up at him in question.

Sendoh stilled, just listening. He knew it. He knew it well. He'd heard it thousands of times before and yet somehow it had never seeped into his consciousness as it did at that moment. Moving away from Kaede made it fade until it was soft, almost impossible to hear, but persistent nonetheless. Ignoring Rukawa's look he put his ear back to his skin and once again heard it clearly, a wave of sound. But it was sad. It was so sad.

"I can hear it," he whispered.

"Hear what?"

He closed his eyes. "The sword."

The sound rose and fell in Rukawa's body as if he were an instrument upon which the sword played it's soft melody.

"It's… here," he tried to explain. "It's... in you."

Rukawa's eyes fell to the side, looking towards the door where his sword still lay beside the neatly folded sash. "You can hear _Akira?_ " he asked in surprise.

Sendoh listened intensely. The hurt. The sadness. It was low and beautiful and enough to make his eyes sting.

But it wasn't Kaede's pain he was hearing, even though it came to him through Kaede's body. And it wasn't _Akira's_ blade that sung to him.

It was _Innocence's_ song. And it was singing Sendoh's own deep and boundless sorrow. Somehow he'd never heard it before. He'd never noticed it. He listened, realising finally that he was hearing the sound of his own dying heart, strangled by grief, and fading gradually into silence.

~tbc

* * *

Sex and Revelations. The name of this chapter, or an upcoming indie rock album?

Currently killing myself revising for exams. Genuinely never had to memorise so much stuff in my life. Exams are end of May so I'll probably either be on hiatus or be extremely active until then lol. Procrastination ftw.


	11. Chapter 10

**Demon  
** **Chapter 10**

 **Warnings:** The kind of rapey, nasty, assaulty stuff you've probably come to expect from me.

Sakuragi Hanamichi noticed the ash falling from the roof though half lidded, lazy eyes. He watched it fall in a constant trickle that formed first a small pile on the floor, then growing steadily larger. For the first time in the past few monotonous hours, his eyes changed from a dull brown to brilliant yellow. Kyota noticed the change in him and paused mid-sentence.

Sakuragi didn't move at once, his chin resting lazily on one hand, his head tilted slightly, his right ankle propped horizontal on his left knee. His soft red hair curled gently back from his handsome face giving him a pleasing, youthful aspect. But his size and his seat at the top of the dais made it obvious that he was the single locus of power in the hall.

The ash continued to fall. It shifted as if a breeze were playing about its surface. Moving it this way and that, forming strange patterns and shapes in the dust.

A few others had noticed it now and were watching curiously. Sakuragi ignored them. He had no interest in the Hellspawn around him these days, short of giving orders or snapping necks. In the past, he reflected, he'd been a great leader. Nowadays he was lazy - merely a tyrant.

The ash took on a form of its own, becoming solid, shaped, moving strangely in otherworldly breezes until it formed arms, legs, body, head, lips. A pair of tattered wings hung limp, trailing against the floor, their surface patchy with holes and ragged edges, too damaged to fly.

The demon who had materialised from the ash was small and thin. A face that might have been handsome once, made older by the dust that clung to him and his neglected state. He had the stench of an outsider, wretched and wraith-like. Silently, he lifted his eyes - dull sea green, deep set, and more than a little mad. He tilted his head, his eyes fixed on Sakuragi. A knife of a smile caught his lips.

Around him, the others drew back in distaste, as if he were pestilent. Only Sakuragi grinned at him, showing his teeth, sharp canines making gentle impressions against his lower lip.

"Fujima," he greeted the odd newcomer in a low rumble.

Fujima's eyes flickered over the other assembled demons. They were all members of Sakuragi's council, within his confidence, most of them several steps above competent. They were all staring at him.

Fujima hissed at them playfully and they stepped further away in revulsion. This seemed to delight him.

"Go," he told them in a thin voice.

They didn't move.

He moved his arms in a flapping motion. "Get out," he tried to insist.

The demons did not obey.

Sakuragi watched Fujima with amusement for a little longer - perhaps only to enjoy the sight of him squirming in his own weakness. He seemed to lack painfully in any quality of leadership or authority. He didn't have the presence that would have enabled him to be commanding. The very thought of Fujima being powerful seemed laughable. The demons around him were twice his size and clearly skeptical of this strange flea of a thing.

Eventually Sakuragi relieved him by giving the briefest of nods and lifted his hand in indication. At his casual signal, the demons immediately retreated and left them alone.

Fujima straightened his back and turned to Sakuragi.

Fujima never looked like much. He was shameless in his weakness. He paraded it purposefully. Most made the mistake of underestimating him. Such a mistake was unwise, and Sakuragi was no fool.

"What do you want Fujima?" he demanded, feigning irritation.

Fujima gave a coy tilt of his head. "Your stare," he answered, a timbre of allure in his words. He ran his fingers down his own neck, brushing temptingly against his throat. "Your attention. Your censure. Your disgust."

Sakuragi pretended to consider him with suspicion while Fujima cast him a sly smile.

"Can't you go and bother someone else?" Sakuragi eventually responded, "You have plenty of favourites." He gestured as if to wave him away, but there was an undercurrent of tease in his voice. It was a little game they were both familiar with.

Fujima put his tongue to his teeth. "The gate is open," he explained with a purr. "You're always at your best when the gate is open. No one is as good as you. Besides," he brought his fingers to the edge of his robe and fingered it teasingly. "I'm sure you also want to release some of your... frustration."

Sakuragi smirked. If he had been more of a fool he might have attempted to keep his distance from this strange and dangerous individual. Fujima had sharp claws, he knew, trading in half-dreamed secrets and vulnerabilities. Those mad eyes knew things. But this threat was one Sakuragi knew had to be handled directly, skilfully, with as little damage done as possible.

So in the interests of self-preservation Sakuragi lifted his arm, the playful aspect not vanishing from his face.

"Then drop your clothes," he prompted him. "And kneel."

A shiver of pleasure ran through Fujima at his words. He moved obediently, letting his robe fall, so he was standing naked. His wings trailed low and limp from his back like a cloak dragging against the ground. Sakuragi's eyes took in the familiar sight of his body. Skinny and undernourished. Ragged skin on bones, sunken eyes and lank hair. There seemed to be no strength to him. Next to Sakuragi's physical massiveness - all muscle and power - he appeared as if he might break at Sakuragi's meanest touch. But it was, like so many things about Fujima, merely an illusion.

Fujima dropped to his knees as Sakuragi had commanded and bowed his head, waiting.

Looking down at him, a familiar prickle of pleasant electricity moved up Sakuragi's spine.

"Crawl," Sakuragi instructed him, a cruel glint in his eye.

Without hesitation Fujima put his palms on the hard stone floor and crawled forwards towards Sakuragi's throne-like seat, equal parts awkward and alluring.

In spite of the danger, the game Sakuragi knew Fujima was doubtless playing, he couldn't help but let his tongue flicker over his dry lips.

Fujima crawled up the three steps of the dais, finally reaching Sakuragi's knee. He reached out his hands eagerly to brush Sakuragi's calf, his thigh, but Sakuragi put a foot flat against Fujima's chest and shoved him away with a hard thrust in disgust. Fujima tumbled pathetically, down two steps, striking the floor with his hip, unbalanced, all helpless long legged ankles and twisted wrists.

Fujima looked up at him from where he was now sprawled. Far from being hurt at the apparent rejection, his expression had turned slack with arousal.

Sakuragi kicked off one sandal, and then contemptuously offered one foot, arching one eyebrow.

Fujima crawled back to him at once, opening his mouth wide, his tongue hanging out like a panting dog.

Sakuragi scoffed. "You're really fucking pathetic, Fujima," he sneered, forcing his toes into the waiting mouth.

Fujima gave a groan deep in his throat. He suckled, swirling his tongue, lapping eagerly, filling the air with wet sounds.

Sakuragi leant back in his chair and sighed as he relaxed, his eyes lifting to the ceiling, tolerating Fujima's hot, wet tongue licking over his foot, around his heel, gently biting at calloused skin, cleaning it meticulously as he prostrated himself pathetically on the floor.

Fujima worked over every inch of skin adoringly until eventually he pulled away, salvia visible on his lips and chin, and began to reach for Sakuragi's other foot. Yet before Fujima could set his mouth back to work he slyly asked, "Are you thinking about him?"

Sakuragi's expression did not change, his eyes still on the ceiling. "Who?" he responded off-handedly, despite knowing exactly who.

Fujima looked amused. " _The Third,_ " he emphasised.

Sakuragi only tsked crossly. Fujima set his tongue upon Sakuragi's second foot. This time though, he took liberties, his hands moving teasingly up and down Sakuragi's leg as he sucked on his toes.

Sakuragi let the provocation go. It was always best to try to ignore Fujima's manipulations. But it was hard. Because Fujima took as much pleasure in torturing him as pleasuring him. And he was, Sakuragi knew all too well, equally adept at both. He forced himself to relax again, to simply accept Fujima's touch. It was safer, he knew, to just focus on his body, to make it wild and feral.

Fujima's hands reached up as far as they could, touching his thighs, slipping under the fabric of his clothes, ticklish over sensitive skin. He once again drew back, his face eager and pleading.

"Please," he begged, eyeing the shape between Sakuragi's legs. His tongue roamed hungrily over his sloppy lips.

Sakuragi grunted carelessly and moved to undo the sash of his robe, bringing his erection out into the air. It stood tall and proud like a rod between them. Fujima's eyes became a little dazed, gazing at it longingly. He opened his mouth and moved closer.

"Are you imagining that I'm him?" he teased him at the last moment, the smallest smirk catching his lips before they closed tightly around his cock and sucking hard.

Despite knowing better, Sakuragi couldn't seem to help but react. Fujima always knew how to provoke him. To punish Fujima's insolence, he reached out with one hand to seize the hair on Fujima's head in a painful knot. Fujima gasped, and Sakuragi gave a powerful flex of his arm, forcing Fujima's mouth right down him full length until his nose was pressed flush against Sakuragi's hair.

Fujima panicked, choking and lurching as the massive organ pressed deep into his throat. Sakuragi held him there as the seconds crawled by, watching Fujima gag, and then Sakuragi roughly wrenched his head back again and Fujima came free, gasping helplessly for air.

"So what if I am?" Sakuragi hissed at him, his eyes a deep violet, cruel and unnatural.

Fujima's doe eyes opened, watering weakly with pain. He cracked a broken smile and licked his lips. "Again," he begged him, "please. Deeper." He let out a lewd moan. "Please."

Sakuragi fought back the urge to slam him back down again.

It wasn't possible to win against Fujima, he reminded himself yet again.

He eyed Fujima suspiciously. Helpless, half dangling by his hair roots caught in Sakuragi's fist, panting eagerly. Irritated, Sakuragi released him with a rough shake and Fujima returned at once to Sakuragi's erection, sinking back down to his knees and setting his tongue against it, closing his eyes blissfully. Sakuragi stared down at him with a mixture of arousal and disgust.

Finally Sakuragi settled his hands back on the arms of his throne, his fingers curling tightly around the ornamental bulbs at the ends, the gold metal warm and soft in his grip. He tried to control his breathing, his emotion, letting Fujima's tongue wash it all away. But if he'd not been thinking about Rukawa Kaede before, he was certainly thinking about him now. No doubt that had been Fujima's intention, the manipulative little slut.

It was pretty easy, he always found, to imagine. To _pretend_. To close his eyes and replace Fujima's mouth with Kaede's. They were so different in so many ways. But then again, there were those certain characteristics they shared.

His hand moved back to Fujima's hair, curling the thick, dirty locks between his fingers, imagining they were darker - black, not brown. He bit back a groan and gripped tighter, forcing Fujima to move with a more punishing rhythm, pulling him back and forth. Fujima's body went limp in response, ragged apart from the sensation of his hot, sucking mouth, his throat open and willing, as Sakuragi struck the back of his throat again and again.

 _Kaede-_

Sakuragi gave a shudder, feeling the edge coming upon him, and pulled Fujima off abruptly.

Fujima gazed up at him dazedly, dishevelled, already looking half drunk on Sakuragi's vitality.

Sakuragi gestured to his lap, and the proud erection that stood prominent between them.

"Sit," he invited. He let a smirk cross his features.

At once Fujima began to climb eagerly upwards into his lap. Sakuragi watched with yellow eyes. But when Fujima made to straddle him, Sakuragi shook his head in disapproval and pushed him away.

"Close your wings," he instructed.

Fujima immediately did as told, the dusty remnants of his tattered wings vanishing at once, but the action was accompanied by the beginnings of another knowing smirk appearing about his lips.

Sakuragi ignored his smug expression. Instead he motioned a circle with one finger. "Turn around."

At this apparent confirmation of his hypothesis, Fujima smiled. He willingly turned his back, revealing the flawless expanse of his skin to Sakuragi's inspection. His knees rested on either side of Sakuragi's thighs, the huge throne more than large enough to accommodate them both. He looked, Sakuragi noted vaguely, much better naked than clothed. Despite his thinness, his almost sickly pallor, there was something very sensual about his body right then. The shape of him, his waist, his skin, the noises he made, the way he arched his back to offer himself for view. He could easily have been someone else. Sakuragi's erection twitched in anticipation.

 _Kaede..._

Sakuragi did not waste time readying him, but only seized his hips and pulled him down, watching with fascinated attention as his organ pressed into Fujima's unprepared body, inch by inch, tight and dry. Fujima seemed so small compared to Sakuragi's thickness, it didn't seem like it would fit.

A small, distressed sound came from Fujima's throat as Sakuragi slowly speared him open. Pleasure at the noise immediately rushed through Sakuragi like a wave, brightening the corners of his mind, igniting every sadistic bent in his desires. He lifted Fujima's body up and away only to drag him back down again, harder than before, impaling him as far as he could go, this time making Fujima really cry out with pain. The sound was inordinately arousing, so Sakuragi did it again. And again. And again.

Fujima tried to resist, pulling away as if he could escape Sakuragi's assault, but Sakuragi tightened his grip on his hips and did not let him go.

 _Punish him_ , thoughts swirled brightly in Sakuragi's mind. _Make him beg. Make him scream. How dare he come here and mock me. Th_ _is_ _little slut. This little whore._

At each impact, the sound of Fujima's suffering echoed about him and the pleasure began to concentrate, overtaking him, blurring his vision, dulling his hearing. He moved his hands upwards, clenching one fist in Fujima's hair and pulling his head back to expose his throat, the other wrapping tight around it, fingers digging hard into his windpipe. Every muscle in the smaller demon's body tightened instinctively in fright, squeezing Sakuragi's shaft and heightening Sakuragi's pleasure as he used his strength to force his body up and down, faster and faster, winding pleasure and friction tight around his length. Fujima's pain and fear drifted through the air like perfume.

"No-" Fujima tried to gasp around Sakuragi's grip, his fingers clawing uselessly at Sakuragi's thighs. "No – no – eugh – ah!"

Sakuragi ignored him.

Gradually Fujima's tortured muscles began to lose their strength as Sakuragi tore them open, blood now running freely. The smaller demon cried and snivelled wetly, turning limp and weak in his grip, but Sakuragi had no mercy at all.

His dazed eyes took in the sight of that blood, so beautiful, running hot and wet down his shaft, pooling at the base.

Fujima's blood was silver. Like molten metal. Like purity itself.

It was enough to make Sakuragi's eyes roll in pleasure.

He could recall Kaede's blood just like this. How it had trickled over his skin. How his body had moved, just like this. His head trashing back and forth while they held him down and fucked him one after another after another after another. The pleading terror on his lips. The realisation of his helplessness, his powerlessness. And then the sight of perfect innocence so wholly and utterly fucked into ruin. How Sakuragi had felt swirling his cock right into his pride. And that... _that_... his fingers began to twitch uncontrollably around Fujima's neck. No - tearing into Fujima would never even compare to that.

Even just remembering it was more than he could control.

All at once, Sakuragi couldn't hold it back. Pleasure sent his eyes sightless.

 _Kaede Kaede Kaede-_

He groaned deep in his throat, into the hot air, a meaningless grunt, spasming hard as he let himself free against the walls of Fujima's body, Kaede foremost in his mind. Gorgeous and broken, speared on his cock.

With a last shudder Sakuragi fell back, panting, releasing his hold on Fujima, and feeling the echoes of orgasm shimmering blissfully through him.

But it faded too quickly. The pleasure dissolving while the discontent still lingered on. A small black bitterness. Frustration. Because no matter how vivid his imagination, no matter how he sought to play it out on Fujima's body, it wasn't the same. Nothing would ever be the same.

After a long minute, Sakuragi cracked open one eye to observe Fujima suspiciously.

Still impaled, Fujima remained still. His shoulders heaved with his breathing. His back glittered with sweat. There was cum dribbled on his thighs, dripping down onto Sakuragi's chair. It seemed Fujima had orgasmed in the midst of it all but Sakuragi did not know when, and he did not particularly care.

Fujima's torn muscles twitched weakly against Sakuragi's still-buried length.

The stillness and the silence caused Sakuragi to wonder vaguely if he might have actually hurt him. Damaged him. Whether his roughness had finally proved too much.

But when Fujima spoke, his voice was perfectly calm, exactly the same as before, as if Sakuragi's vicious violation had never even occured.

"I always wonder..." Fujima murmured thoughtfully, "...what you feel for him."

Sakuragi let out a breath, feeling a little disappointed. It wasn't possible, he reminded himself all over again, to win against Fujima. The best he could hope for was not to lose.

So he leaned back again in his chair, closing his eyes as if he would doze, giving no answer.

"Why don't you just bring him home?" Fujima continued curiously. "He belongs here. With us. With _you_." He lifted himself up, separating them with a wet noise, and stepped off the chair and away from Sakuragi, staggering slightly. Silver blood ran down the inside of his legs. He sunk to the ground at Sakuragi's feet.

"They hide in the lunar mansions and think they are safe," Fujima complained softly, staring across the empty hall. "At _Yoku_ -shuku. At _Ki_ -shuku. At _Chou_ -shuku. They rely on the sacred grounds to hide them and yet none of that compares to the power of the gate." His small hands wound gently around Sakuragi's calf and began to stroke his skin adoringly. " _Your_ gate," he corrected himself. "They really are arrogant fools."

Sakuragi gave a dismissive grunt and a shrug.

Fujima frowned a little, looking up at him. "Why don't you bring him here?" he repeated. "You could keep him at your feet, just like this. You could have him every day. _Fuck_ him every day, if that's what you want. There's no one who could stop you. Why don't you do it?"

Sakuragi shrugged again. He gestured with one hand and Fujima obediently put his forehead to the floor so Sakuragi could place his foot on the back of his head. Fujima closed his eyes and moaned, a shudder passing through him, drunk on his own vulnerability.

Sakuragi glanced down at Fujima's naked back. He could recall the times he had put his claws into that beautiful back and made it run like a river with silver blood. Yet no matter how Fujima had screamed, nothing he'd ever done seemed to truly hurt. Nothing ever lasted. No scars, no marks. Sometimes he wondered if Fujima only screamed to mock him.

He tried to relax. It could be Kaede instead, naked under his feet. Straddling his lap. Writhing with agony. Begging him to stop. That at least, he consoled himself, would be real.

And it would be, as Fujima had said, easy enough to achieve.

Did he want that, though?

"You let him do whatever he likes. Go wherever he likes," Fujima continued, his voice slightly muffled by his position against the floor. "He has slaughtered demons by the thousands. You sacrifice so many to him. And why? I don't understand. If it is lust that you have for him, why don't you bring him here and enslave him to you? And if not, why don't you just kill him and free yourself of this weakness you have that persists for him?"

Sakuragi still made no answer. He relaxed back a little more, his limbs becoming heavier, pressing Fujima harder against the ground. Listening to Fujima's speculation pleased him. He liked that Fujima didn't know. Couldn't understand. That for all his needling and clever little games he was shut out of Sakuragi's secrets.

Fujima paused for a moment, mulling over his words before suggesting, "Sometimes I wonder if perhaps you don't really want to hurt him. If you might actually... _care_ about him."

Sakuragi cracked open one eye in amusement.

"But no, that's impossible..." Fujima continued, dissatisfied. "You don't have any capacity for care. For... _love._ We fallen can feel such things. But you? No. It's not possible."

"Perhaps he amuses me," Sakuragi mumbled vaguely, deciding to give Fujima a little inch of rope to tease himself with.

Fujima scoffed at the idea. "Amusement lasts a decade," he pointed out. "It's been a thousand years."

Sakuragi snorted and waved a hand dismissively. "Then perhaps I'm just living with false hope."

Fujima seemed to think about this. "What false hope?" he asked eventually.

Sakuragi twisted one wrist in a careless gesture. "Perhaps what I really want is to... possess him again."

Fujima was silent for a long moment. "You could have him whenever you want," he pointed out.

Sakuragi shook his head dismissively. "No. No. Not like that. Not like he is now. What interest do I have in the fallen? Ugly, dirty, cheap things, like you." His foot on Fujima's head increased in pressure, causing a thin, nervous noise to sound in Fujima's mouth. "I've mastered an _angel_. And that..." Sakuragi smiled wistfully, "...perhaps _that_ is what I want."

There was a moment of silence. And then laughter. Cold laughter from down by his feet.

"How pathetic," Fujima sneered.

Sakuragi's eyes abruptly turned red, but Fujima's amusement did not cease.

"You mean you've destroyed the very thing you want most," Fujima laughed. "You took him and you broke him and now you can never again have him as he once was. But you cannot accept it. You continue to pursue him. To _desire_ him. I never took you for such a fool."

Irritated, Sakuragi made to press down harder with the weight of his foot, perhaps fracture Fujima's pretty little skull against the floor, but Fujima's hand reached up and locked around his ankle with surprising strength, preventing him. Though Sakuragi scowled, for all his monstrous power he could not move from Fujima's grip.

Sakuragi grit his teeth. After a moment, which persisted long enough to prove that Fujima's superior strength was incontestable, Fujima's hand released him. Sakuragi moved his foot away, and Fujima sat up, still on the floor, his hair tousled, and looking as deceptively pathetic as always. Sakuragi glared at him. It was rare, very rare, for Fujima to break the illusion of his weakness. It made Sakuragi irritated.

"Can it really be true?" Fujima looked up at him, still smirking through his disarranged fringe. "The all powerful demon lord fell in love with the young and innocent angel?"

Sakuragi managed to swallow his anger back down. Rising to Fujima's bait had been an elementary error. He should have known better. Through force of will, his eyes faded from red to a brittle blue, and he scoffed coldly and shook his head. " _Love?_ Impossible. You said so yourself."

"Yes," Fujima tilted his head. "Sad, isn't it?" He smirked momentarily. "Just imagine if you'd been made a different way. In a different body. You could have been beside him. You could have been his companion. He might even have loved you back. Instead you were born cursed. Everything you touch you break. Everything you desire turns to ash in your hands. This strange love you have for him has been doomed from the start, and it's not even your fault. You are just a slave to your nature. You truly are a pitiful thing, aren't you?"

Sakuragi scowled at him. "You're hardly a fountain of joy yourself."

"No..." Fujima shrugged, "...but at least I can say I made my own choice." He glanced up at Sakuragi, his eyes brightening. "Did I ever tell you my story? About my _fall_?"

Sakuragi's look became openly wary at this unexpected change in topic. It was unusual for Fujima to voluntarily offer information about himself. Sakuragi began to realise that whatever purpose Fujima had come here for, whatever twisted plan he had for causing Sakuragi pain, was still underway.

"No," he answered suspiciously. He narrowed his eyes. In truth he had wondered a few times. Fujima was quite different to most of the fallen he knew. Some sort of succubus, he supposed. Feeding himself on sex and desire. Seductive and sly. Useless for anything except opening his legs and drinking cum. And yet he was ancient even beyond Sakuragi's years. He was possessed of no small power, but the manner and the limits of his strength was hard to comprehend.

Fujima gave a tepid smile. "I'm no fighter. I wasn't out there slaughtering innocents," he let out a laugh. "I fell in love, you see," he explained, and when he sensed Sakuragi's full curiosity upon him, he added, "with a mortal."

He observed the change in Sakuragi. The narrowing of his eyes, turning slowly orange, effusing towards red. Knowing that Fujima was baiting him, trying to resist his pull and yet already caught. A fish on Fujima's line.

"Did you know?" Fujima added casually.

"Know _what_?" Sakuragi's voice was low and tense.

"That fucking mortals is forbidden?" Fujima's smile was innocent. "Ah..." he whispered quietly in the face of Sakuragi's slack silence, "... _you didn't know_."

Sakuragi glowered at him.

Fujima licked his lips delightedly, but then his expression soured. "I married her, you know? And I was happy _._ For forty years. For forty years of my life I was happy Hanamichi, I truly was. Despite what they did to me. Despite the price they made me pay, I _loved_ her. All I wanted was to be with her." He let out a cold laugh. "But you know what? Mortals… they _die_. And now... now I can't even remember her name." He shrugged. "Sometimes I wonder if it was worth it at all."

Sakuragi's expression was cold. "Do you have a point?" he snarled.

"Perhaps. I just thought it seemed rather... ironic." Fujima turned his face away to hide his amusement. "He hates you for what you did to him. You caused his fall, you ruined him, so it's only natural isn't it? That he would despise you. But now... now..." he gave a dark chuckle, "...he chooses his own damnation anyway."

He waited. And Sakuragi's voice did not disappoint. It was stretched to breaking as he snarled, " _W_ _hat are you talking about_?"

Fujima turned back to him and smiled sweetly. "That slippery mortal cock he's been rutting on, of course."

The red in Sakuragi's eyes turned black. The silence stretched between them long and taut.

"Impossible," Sakuragi decided eventually. "It's Kaede. He wouldn't. He's too…"

"...uptight? Frigid? _Proud_?" Fujima suggested, and shrugged with a smirk. "That mortal boy can make him stretch his legs like a whore." He put his fingers to his mouth and licked them thoughtfully. "I wouldn't mind a ride on that cock. If he can seduce even the infamously frigid Third, he must be really _very_ good."

Sakuragi's expression was half fury mixed with abject astonishment. "Impossible," he repeated, but then he added, "How do you know this?"

"Because unlike you..." Fujima examined his fingernails casually, "...the walls of _Yoku_ are no barrier to me."

There was a moment as Sakuragi considered this, all the muscles in his face tightening, and then he rose slowly to his feet. The atmosphere had changed, and Fujima shuffled back away from him swiftly.

Sakuragi's expression had darkened. His wings slowly unfurled to their fullmost extent, huge and horrible. Tension radiated from him like a force. A loud crack echoed through the air. Fujima lifted his eyes to see that the marble wall had fractured, from floor to ceiling. A black, broken line across the white surface. The fabric of reality bending itself to the pressure of Sakuragi's pent emotion.

Fujima lifted his eyes up to admire him in all his furious glory. He realised he could see the warm flickering light of flames moving inside the pulsing veins of his wings. He'd never seen Sakuragi so angry. A delighted thrill overtook him. He felt his body rise again in arousal at the sight of him standing there, strong and powerful and dark. The compulsion to prostrate himself; bow and simper and plead, was a pleasant twist in his stomach.

"What are you going to do?" Fujima piped sweetly.

Sakuragi's hand came down and wrapped tight around Fujima's neck. He hoisted him physically up into the air like a rag-doll and gave him a shake. "Tell me how I can cross the threshold of _Yoku_ -shuku," he demanded.

Fujima's slack, naked body hung helpless in his grip. Yet he smiled sympathetically, unafraid.

"My sweet child," he purred. "I have already told you that."

Sakuragi paused for a short moment. Then he released his grip, and Fujima hit the floor heavily.

Sakuragi turned away, sparing no further acknowledgment for the smaller demon where he'd fallen. The smell of burning lingered after him. The swirl of his concentrating power sucked at the air so that it felt like a breeze through Fujima's hair. Fujima shuddered with a soft sigh of appreciation. He watched as spider webs of fractures burst across the stone floor with each step Sakuragi took as he left.

In three strides, he was gone.

Alone, Fujima gazed after him for only a moment before he winced a little, got up, and went to sit naked on Sakuragi's throne. Silver blood smeared carelessly onto the velvet seat. He tilted his head and rested his chin on his small palm. The throne dwarfed him.

Fujima dragged his fingers thoughtfully over his slack lips.

The thought of The Third slaughtered amused him. As for the mortal boy, it seemed rather inevitable that he would die slowly. A shame to waste him, perhaps. He would have liked to have ridden him awhile. Taken him to the brink of ecstasy and death. His favourite kind of fucking.

He closed his eyes and slid his fingers along the golden ornaments of the throne, his long fingers caressing the moulded precious metals.

 _Ah_.

 _How strange._

The millennia pass, but the sentiments, the love, the loss, all remain the same.

 _Was it worth it..._ he asked silently, ... _Toru?_

From under the drift of his fringe, his eyes glittered with thought and curiosity. His thoughts turned back to The Third.

 _Rukawa Kaede. I wonder if he might succeed where I failed?_

He twisted his tongue in his mouth. It seemed unlikely.

Deep inside, he felt the ache of the knife twisting. He hissed with the same long-felt agony. He squeezed his eyes closed, waiting for the pain to subside.

 _Mortal love was never meant to last forever, right, Toru?_

False hope, he reflected bitterly, was truly the worst kind.

* * *

 _Sendoh knew he was dreaming, but it didn't help. Terror throbbed in his throat. He tried to run from the room, his small feet slipping in blood. Already, flames had engulfed the straw of the roof. Two demons filled the room, massive and terrifying, their wings stretching from wall to wall, red blood dripping from their chins. Red blood. His parents' blood._

 _And his sister._

 _And he._

 _He would be next._

 _...where…?_

 _But before he could feel the demon teeth in his neck he realised he was outside, watching as the flames devoured the only home he'd ever known. All the warmth and the memories and the goodness. Everything. Gone._

 _And he had nothing. Nothing but this sword in his hand._

 _Where had it come from?_

 _He gripped it tightly, though it was far too big, and much too heavy._

 _The stranger beside him gripped his shoulder for a moment. Just a moment. Some small comfort in the face of something so awful._

 _But then, he realised, it wasn't his childhood home after all. He was standing in front of the tavern, on the cold street, his ears ringing. The blood smeared about floor was Aida's. Was Koshino's. Was Ikegami's._

 _But the sword in his hands. It was the same sword. It was the same fire._

 _His eyes moved sideways, looking for Kaede beside him. But instead it was the stranger, still. Telling him softly, "Her name is_ Innocence. _" And Sendoh could only nod dumbly, nothing but a small child clinging to an oversized sword._

 _A scream arose from the stricken building, and Sendoh lifted his eyes to see that it was not the tavern. He was standing in front of Yoku, watching the old farm house eaten up by the flames. His home. Kaede's home. His heart lurched in his chest. Everything… everything was…_

 _Sorrow overcame him then._

 _Enough. Surely, it was enough._

 _No more. Please. Please. Stop._

 _He whirled around to confront the stranger, the sword in his hand no longer too big. It was just right. A part of his arm. An extension of his soul. But-_

 _I don't want this! He was yelling._

 _He held it out, and if he could give it back. He would give it back if it meant he could save… something. Just one thing. Just one thing he wanted to save._

 _This sword. This world. This pain. I don't want it anymore! I never wanted it. I never asked for this._

 _I never asked to be saved._

" _Her name is_ Innocence _."_

 _Still he held it out, desperate to return it to the stranger. But he saw the person standing beside him was no stranger, but Kaede. The flames reflected in his eyes, giving them an unnatural demonic glow, bright with blood red tears._

 _Sendoh watched in confusion as Kaede slowly sank to his knees in the dirt, his red eyes fixed on the burning house, ash from the fire smudged like fingers across his cheek. Five long, cruel claws reached out and curled possessively in Kaede's hair, holding him tight._

 _Sendoh looked up to see Sakuragi's amused smile._

 _Their eyes met, and pain erupted in his stomach. The sword fell useless from his hand._

He awoke with a gasp.

He sat upright and looked around, disturbed. His hand went to press against his stomach, but there was nothing to sense. Not any more. Yet he was sure it was the sense that had woken him, bringing on this cold sweat and racing heart. But nothing in the room seemed out of place.

He looked down. Rukawa was still asleep. Surely, if there had been something, he would have woken too? Rukawa was as sensitive to demons as Sendoh was. Sendoh took a moment to calm the anxious fluttering in his chest. It had just been the dream that had roused him. Just a dream.

His eyes moved suspiciously over the room nonetheless. The two swords were dropped on the floor at the head of the futon, parallel, within easy reach. The floor was littered with clothes. His kimono. Kaede's. Flung carelessly aside. At the centre of the room, the futon filled the floor. Kaede was half covered by the sheets, sleeping on his side, curled in towards Sendoh. One long arm reached forward to rest across Sendoh's body possessively, now fallen sleepily down to Sendoh's lap, his back moving ever so slightly with peaceful breathing.

Around them, the house was silent and calm. Nothing to fear.

Sendoh stared down at Kaede, feeling the adrenaline ebb slowly away, his breath slowing, his racing heart calmed.

Tentatively he reached out one hand to touch the fine hairs of Kaede's fringe, brushed over his eyes.

 _Just… a dream_. He gave a sigh. He recalled for a moment the vision of Kaede's burning red eyes, but shook his head in contempt at the wildness of his imaginings. It had been ridiculous. Kaede was no demon. He knew that. And looking at him like this only made it more obvious than ever.

It was when he was asleep that it was easiest to see what he was. He was truly beautiful. His face relaxed and revealed gentleness in his expression. Warmth filled Sendoh just by being near him. In Sendoh's mind he could remember things he'd never seen… what Rukawa must have looked like in drifting wings. How the light would catch his face. How he would appear, so youthful and boyish, lost in down and feathers that brushed with such softness across his skin. The feel of his lips, the way he might smile, unguarded, warm, the feeling of being close to something heavenly, pure and innocent.

The thought made Sendoh smile sadly.

Of course, once Rukawa was awake, the ease of imagining would vanish, and Sendoh would see the hardness in him. Rukawa was in reality cold, fierce, and strong. Not a creature of love but one of strength. And yet Sendoh loved that too. He wouldn't have changed him for the world. But he couldn't deny that he was a little… curious. Knowing that Mitsui, Kogure, and even Sakuragi, had known another side of him. He felt a little sad that there were parts of Rukawa's heart that would always remain locked to him. Parts that Rukawa would never again open, or allow to be seen. Parts that he had barricaded away, even from himself.

Sendoh didn't think he loved him any less for the fact that he felt pain, felt anger, was ruled now by the sense, blood and his thirst for revenge. But he regretted keenly never having had the chance to know the other facets of his soul. That he would only ever see him discretely, in this short moment of time, and not across the full spectrum of the thousand years of his existence, and even beyond, another thousand years into the unimagined future. What he would become. How he would grow. Even without Sendoh there by his side to love him.

He screwed up his face a little unhappily.

 _I don't want to leave you_ , he told the sleeping boy. _I want to see everything. But that… is impossible, isn't it?_

He rose quietly, feeling heavy, leaving Rukawa sleeping where he was. He pulled his kimono back on, skilfully tied the sash, and took up his sword. He turned it in his hands, recalling his strange dream, examining her hilt and scabbard curiously. He hadn't dreamt of his parents in so long. The night he'd lost everything, and gained only this long curve of sharpened metal in exchange. It made him furrow his brows in confusion. Why this dream? Why now?

Seeing nothing out of the ordinary in her, nothing that should have spurred him to such a dream, he shrugged and pushed the sheath through his obi, and let himself silently out of the room.

He passed through the now-familiar house, his slippered feet silent on the tatami floors. The old wood, dark with age, warped in places from heat, or from damp, or from cold. Dusty corners, frayed tatami. No one ever cleaned this place, he knew. It felt empty, and abandoned. But it felt safe too. A home. Consistent. Old. It was _Yoku_. Familiar to him now as much as the rooftop space in Anzai's cavern had once been. He'd loved it from the moment he'd set eyes on it, he recalled. This neglected old house that had seemed to suit Kaede so well.

He went outside onto the veranda, slipping his feet into outdoor shoes as he went, looking out across the grass to where Kogure was sitting, meditating quietly in the soft sun of the winter morning.

Sendoh measured his steps carefully, forcing himself to be aware of his body and its movements. He felt confident. His body, his mind, his sword seemed to be in close tune. It was as if the different parts of him were finally uniting. Things were slowly becoming easier, clearer to see.

Kogure was a good teacher. Where before things had been nothing but a blur, Kogure had helped him to focus. Not his eyes. Nor just his instinct – it was no longer a matter of his best guess. But to listen, as well. To let his mind flow along the blade. _Innocence_ told him so much. The sound of her steel told him more about the direction of the attack, the speed, the turn in the blade, where the next blow was going to come from, than he could have believed. It wasn't loud, or clear. But it was coming to him, slowly. A melody that hinted at emotion, at depth, tugging deep in the heart of you. Nothing as crude as simple instructions, but something airy and insubstantial, something more to do with the soul than the mind.

But still, for reasons Sendoh didn't know, he couldn't hear the sword directly. The song came to him through Kaede and, without Kaede, there was only silence.

The song, Sendoh guessed, was unnatural to mortal ears. Whatever the bond Sendoh shared with Kaede seemed to be the only reason he could hear it at all.

But Kogure spoke to him frequently of the song. Made him mediate, listening. Encouraged him to find a state of harmony, sinking into it, joining it, and letting the sword sing through him. Reaching a unity so that the two of them, slayer and sword, were of one tune and one motion.

And slowly, Sendoh thought he was beginning to understand what he meant.

Physical skill was a part of it, that was undeniable. Kogure was unbelievably fast and surprisingly strong. But physical limits were only one factor.

This was… something else.

It was rare, but sometimes he managed to reach a point where he was submerged in the song. Finding a little of that harmony which Kogure spoke of, if only for a few seconds.

It was like being underwater. The brightness of his conscious would fade and yet he would remain awake, alert. But he couldn't see. He couldn't breathe. The world slowed to nothing. The sword humming in his hand became the full extent of his awareness.

In those short moments, he could turn aside Kogure's approaching blade just because it was there. He knew it was there, even though his eyes did not see it. It was factual. Obvious. Easy. Though he felt his limbs were heavy as lead, moving like rocks through the resistance of the water, _Innocence_ responded. Moving swiftly where he willed her, imagined her, and not where he forced her to be.

It had happened a few times now. But it frightened him, especially as he came back to himself gasping for air, his head ringing painfully with the song that rattled inside his skull as if someone had hit him with a hammer.

This way of fighting exhausted him.

It was to be expected, Sendoh told himself strictly. He was mortal, after all. That must matter, somehow. This training – this place, this song – it was all unnatural to him. He was pushing himself beyond human limits, capable only through his closeness to Kaede, and perhaps even harming himself in the process.

Still, the thought of Sakuragi Hanamichi always made him pick up his sword, and continue.

* * *

After waking up and finding Sendoh gone, Rukawa lay motionless for a while, listening to the sound of swords coming together beyond the walls of the house. Aware that time was quickly running out.

It had been three days now. Only three days.

It was frightening how fast Sendoh had improved with that sword.

But more frightening, perhaps, just how familiar Rukawa was becoming with his touch, his warmth, the pleasure of his possession.

He shuffled down further into the sheets, flushing gently at the thought.

But then he recalled to his mortification how he'd been forced to resort to using his full form just yesterday when defending himself from one of Sendoh's concentrated attacks. It had been a subconscious response, that his wings would open, even if only momentarily, to increase his speed and strength. The memory was enough to make him squirm in shame.

Rationally he was aware that Sendoh knew, and had at least in part accepted what Rukawa was, but still it made him feel... dirty.

He hated it. His body. His form. He hated Sendoh's eyes on him. He hated to imagine what Sendoh thought and felt, in those moments when he was reminded. Though Sendoh gave him no reason to feel shame, he did anyway. Because he knew exactly how Sendoh felt even if he made no indication of his revulsion at all.

Because he was. Absolutely. Repulsive.

After that, Rukawa had declined to participate. Perhaps he had been sulking a little. He wouldn't admit as much.

Now he sat up, brushing the covers aside, looking down at his nakedness. The memory of Sendoh's mouth on him the night before, the run of his hands, the warmth of his skin, made him blush again. He quickly got up and pulled on his clothes.

Once outside, he climbed one of the overhanging trees that encircled the yard and settled back to watch. The bough he sat on was comfortable and round, and he leant against the thick truck, mostly lost in the leaves, one leg dangling, the other sandal set against the bark. His eyes watched intensely the back-and-forth playing out below him.

He watched the way Sendoh moved, responding to Kogure's attacks. There was something in him, something powerful and determined, that made him fascinating to watch. Kogure's skill was undeniable and yet it was measured, careful and limited by plan and foresight. What burned in Sendoh Akira was brilliant and impulsive and alive.

The more Rukawa watched, the more he came to understand that Sendoh Akira had some natural skill none of them could truly measure themselves against. He was different. So very different from the rest of them.

Rukawa looked down at his own hands. Pale, long-fingered, and elegant. Angelic, perhaps. He felt something ugly curl inside him. Fighting was against their nature. He'd heard it said a thousand times. But what did it mean? He was this thing. This thing that lived through a sword. They all were. Whether they were fighting against nature or not, wasn't the point. He'd chosen this. This weapon. This path of blood.

That Sendoh Akira would take to it more naturally than he ever did was to be expected. Mortals were survivors by nature. Biologically evolved to war, to fight, to spill blood. And yet…

He cut his thoughts short with an abrupt shake of his head. What was there to be jealous of? The very idea was stupid.

He gripped the bark under his fingers, hard enough to hurt.

And it did hurt. Sendoh did this to him. In that straightforward, unadulterated way of his. Forced him up short before the sheer cliff face of reality. Uncovered him, inch by inch. Places where he was weak. Where he was wounded. Baring him to the hot sun and watching him burn.

But then, each night, he lost himself in his arms. Sendoh's lips on his collar, trailing up his throat, chasing away all that was black and awful. Making him brave. Making him whole. Filling him up with something else. Making him believe, even if just for the night, that he could be something new. Something strong. Something good.

Hopes and promises. But what was it worth?

He lifted his eyes to the purpling sky, feeling unusually small and helpless. He gripped _Akira_ reassuringly, feeling the familiar coldness seeping through his arm, but it didn't seem to help much. There wasn't long. The gate couldn't remain open more than a couple more days.

He'd been so selfish, he reflected, he knew it now. It had seemed so easy at the time. Just some mortal boy who would have perished anyway. How casually he'd plucked him like a leaf out of the black hands of death, spared his life in the misguided belief that that life was then his to use.

How had that stranger become everything to him?

Rukawa had never truly believed he could protect Sendoh from the storm. It had always been wishful thinking at best. Now he had run out of time.

It made him want to puke with worry.

"It makes me fucking sick."

Rukawa startled at the sudden voice. He turned his head in surprise to see Mitsui also perched on the same branch, looking down at Sendoh and Kogure. Rukawa had been so lost in thought he'd not noticed Mitsui's arrival at all.

"He's so fucking talented it makes me sick," Mitsui repeated with venom.

Rukawa eyed him. His kimono was navy blue, rumpled and casual on his strong frame. _Vengeance_ was, as always, at his hip. A powerful sword for a powerful fighter. Always reliable. Always strong. Mitsui's posture was confident and easy, but the look in his eyes was neither. Rukawa knew he was anxious.

Mitsui turned his eyes upon Rukawa and glared at him. "And you! _Sleeping_ with him now. You've really lost your mind."

Rukawa winced a little, wondering vaguely how Mitsui knew, suddenly conscious of the noises he must have made. Had he been too loud? Had they heard him? The thought was absolutely mortifying. His breath stuck in his throat.

Mitsui rolled his eyes. "What are you going to do?" He demanded crossly. "What if he dies? What then?"

Rukawa shook his head. "I don't know."

"You've really backed yourself into a corner."

"...yeah."

"It's lose-lose now."

"Yeah."

'So?" Mitsui pressed.

Rukawa didn't answer.

Mitsui rolled his eyes again. "You need to decide."

"Decide what?"

"Decide what you're prepared to lose."

Rukawa was silent.

"Listen. I like him. I like him a lot but, for fucks sakes, he's _mortal_ , Kaede. Whether he dies now or dies later, you're going to lose him. That's all you can know for sure."

"I... know that."

'Well then..." Mitsui eyed him suspiciously, "...you know that you have my sword. You'll _always_ have my sword. But… if it comes down to it I want you to promise me that you won't go throwing yourself at Sakuragi's feet just to save him."

Rukawa took a breath. The world around him suddenly seemed strange and distant. His fingers felt numb against the bark.

"I... can't," he admitted finally. "I don't know what I'll do. What I'll throw away." He ran his fingers over his forearm, staring down at his own pale skin. "Everything, I expect."

Mitsui's jaw slackened. "What about your revenge?" he demanded. "Isn't the reason you even bothered to save him in the first place just so that sword could help you to kill Sakuragi?"

Rukawa's response was dull and resigned. "I don't know. I don't know what I want."

"For fuck's sake," Mitsui's voice was irritated, and yet underneath there was something warm in his words. As if he'd expected as much. As if he couldn't argue back. Because he knew love for what it was; a wholly irresistible force. "You know this relationship you have with him is sinful, don't you?"

Rukawa lifted his eyes and, for the first time, a small ironic smirk touched his lips. "What are they going to do?" he questioned. "Damn me twice?"

Mitsui tsked crossly. "Fuck."

They sat in silence, listening the sound of swords as Sendoh and Kogure below them exchanged blows.

Mitsui shifted his weight. "You know, I really hate this."

Rukawa glanced sideways at him. "What?"

Mitsui gestured towards him. "This. You. Seeing you, like this."

"Like what?"

"Like you're..." Mitsui's face screwed up in distaste. "Like you're _happy_ , or something. You know. Being with him."

Rukawa stared at him. "You don't want me to be happy?"

Mitsui shook his head in irritation, the cotton of his robe moving stiffly against his neck. "That's not what I meant. I mean… I want this for you… always. Properly. I hate that you'll lose him. I hate that it'll probably be Sakuragi who kills him. It's just not right. It's fucking unbearable, in fact."

Rukawa gave a small resigned shrug, turning back to watch Kogure and Sendoh below. "Isn't it?" he agreed softly. His manner was casual, but Mitsui did not miss the edge in his words.

Mitsui sighed. He didn't seem to know what else to say. It was a few minutes before he said, "I'm going to tell Kogure to return." When Rukawa turned to look at him, he added, "Today."

There was silence.

Mitsui waited for Rukawa's reaction, but there was nothing to give away his thoughts. He frowned.

"I'm sorry," he said. "You know I don't have a choice."

Was that true? Mitsui wondered briefly. Even to his own ears it sounded wholly insufficient. Unable to dent Rukawa's silence. Unable to keep at bay what was coming.

They'd faced terrible things together, these two fallen brothers. A nightmare that had stretched for a thousand years. Mitsui still blamed himself for what had happened to Kaede. He was the oldest, and the strongest, and the one who should have been responsible. Nothing he did would ever be penance enough for failing Kaede that night.

Since then he'd turned the entirely of his focus upon the task of killing Sakuragi Hananichi. He'd convinced himself that that seemingly impossible task was the only possible route to redemption. Killing Sakuragi had become the only thing that kept him going. The only thing to achieve. The only way to silence his guilt, and make up for his failures.

But now, he knew, he was failing Kaede all over again.

Kogure was the only one of them who could realistically hope to hold Sakuragi off. Kogure was the only one who had any true chance of protecting Sendoh. Sitting there together on the branch of that tree, Mitsui knew that he was withdrawing the one thing that might save this strange mortal boy to whom Kaede had become so attached - this odd Sendoh Akira - from a slow and painful death.

And still, Mitsui couldn't. Couldn't risk losing him. Not Kiminobu.

"I understand," Rukawa told him finally.

Mitsui swallowed. "I'm sorry, Kaede. I just… I can't… I-."

"I know," Rukawa closed his eyes for a moment. "Hisashi, I really do know."

"I'm sorry," he repeated again.

Rukawa only nodded silently.

"I'm so sorry." It sounded pathetic, yet he couldn't seem to stop saying it.

Kaede didn't argue. Mitsui felt his silence like a punch to the stomach.

* * *

"Can we talk?"

Sendoh looked up from where he had been leaning against the tree, out of breath and panting hard. Rukawa dropped from the branch above and landed on the ground before him like a cat, totally silent, his eyes intense and troubled.

Sendoh had been sipping water from a bamboo flask, the sleeves of his kimono hanging down from his waist, his upper body bare and slick with sweat under the dappled shade. Rukawa's eyes could hardly bear to linger on him. Youthful and glorious and so very much alive. Such a strong and handsome thing.

"You okay?" Sendoh questioned. He straightened at once from the tree, his eyes creased with concern, looking at the dark shadows in Rukawa's eyes. His hand drifted compulsively to _Innocence_ still there at his hip.

He had changed a little, under Kogure's intense teaching. The song hummed a little clearer, Rukawa noticed. Sendoh carried himself a little differently. It was a little reassuring, but far from enough.

Rukawa hesitated. He had to resist the urge to go to him, to be close to him, to press his ear against his bare chest, slide his fingers over his slick skin and listen to the pounding of his heart. Instead, he indicated with his head that they should withdraw a little deeper into the trees, away from the house.

Sendoh followed him without question, pulling up his sleeves to cover his shoulders as they passed the outer trees and moved deeper into the damp shade, populated with biting insects and bugs. The sweat still shimmered on his collar and brow. It made Rukawa's throat dry.

Abruptly, Rukawa turned to face him. Out beyond the tree line they could still see silvers of the house between trunks and branches; rickety old thing. Within its familiar rooms Rukawa knew Mitsui and Kogure would be arguing at this moment. Kogure wanting to stay and help. Mitsui insisting that he leave. Perhaps the two of them would embrace, sharing another painful goodbye. Another moment of parting of the sort the two of them shared far too often. A love divided across two different worlds.

Rukawa tried to focus, looking into Sendoh's face and taking a breath. He gripped the sword and sheath in his obi, and pulled it free. The bindings hung limp from the scabbard. He held it out to Sendoh, his hand shaking just a little.

"I want you to take this," he announced.

Sendoh's expression was surprised. He made no move to take the sword. "Kaede?"

Rukawa narrowed his eyes. "There's no more time. Take it, and go."

"Go?" Sendoh tilted his head, puzzled. "Go where?"

"Anywhere. Away. Away from here. From me."

Sendoh frowned softly. "You need it," he reminded him gently. "For your plan to work. Remember?"

Rukawa shook his head. "I don't want it. I don't want to use it." He took another half step forward, offering the sword more insistently.

For a moment, Sendoh was reminded of his dream.

"You're giving up on me?" he questioned. "On yourself?"

Rukawa shook his head. "It's… it's not that."

Sendoh folded his arms across his chest, refusing to take the sword.

Rukawa stared back at him, feeling a little irritated that Sendoh was being so difficult.

Sendoh pressed his lips together tightly. "You're telling me to run away? I have my own vows to keep, Kaede" he pointed out. "I have my own reasons for facing Sakuragi."

"But-"

Sendoh's eyes were fixed on him determinedly, and Rukawa's half-formed argument evaporated into silence.

Slowly, Rukawa lowered _Akira_ until he held it loosely against his thigh. He looked annoyed. He opened his mouth as if to speak crossly, but then he only took a breath, and closed it again. Then Sendoh saw something else his expression. An uncharacteristic resignation. Tiredness.

"Akira…" he began heavily, "I..."

Sendoh tilted his head, watching the struggle playing out in Rukawa's expression. Always having been more of action than of words, it was a little painful watching him trying to express himself now. Yet Sendoh could do nothing but wait.

Rukawa forced himself to take a breath. "Akira, I've never wanted anything except… an end. A way to stop this pain. So I've... killed. I've destroyed. And I've run and run from the questions I don't want to ask myself." His eyes fixed to the ground, unwilling to look into Sendoh's face. "I feel like I'm destroying myself. Every time I kill, I'm sure I lose something, some part of me becomes a little colder. But I can't feel it. It's all just… numb. I'm nothing but the sense. The sword. Revenge. But this… you – you -" he stammered anxiously over his words. "You are something that I…" he swallowed unhappily, his sentences falling apart. "Akira, I can't lose you," he blurted out finally, his voice anxious and unexpectedly warm.

He took a half step backwards, curled inwards, as if the pain of such a confession might cause him to physically collapse in upon himself.

For a moment, Sendoh only stared. Rukawa's words seemed honest. But was it possible? How? When Sendoh had been so sure that he was nothing but a sword. A lowly commiseration. A tool to be used and ultimately discarded.

He swallowed his astonishment.

Why would a creature like this _feel_ anything for someone like him?

He had been so convinced of his own expendability that he barely knew what to do.

Kaede had never been the type to whom physical closeness came naturally. He would always blush, or stiffen, or shudder. Outside of the nights they had spent together, he would never even think to hug, to kiss, or even brush hand against hand. Still, Sendoh found he could not resist stepping forwards. Taking him into his arms. Wanting to adore him. Burying his face into Rukawa's hair and breathing deeply. He felt Rukawa stiffen awkwardly in his embrace, but it only made him smile.

"Kaede, you know that I love you," he whispered back, his voice low and soothing. "And... I know how you feel. I feel exactly the same way. You have given me a reason to exist. Something more than the shadow life I've been living. I don't want to lose you, either."

An anxious silence was all that emanated from Rukawa.

A sigh pressed Sendoh's chest. "But, you really want me to run away? To leave Anzai unavenged? Aida? My friends? Everyone that bastard has taken from me? And you. I've sworn a thousand times that I'll help you kill him, Kaede. Am I supposed to just walk away from that? Are my promises to be worth nothing?"

Rukawa could only shake his head, his face still buried in Sendoh's chest, unable to give any answer. His free hand tentatively reached up to touch Sendoh's back, brushing lightly, barely enough to be considered an embrace returned and yet Sendoh chose to believe it to be one just the same. Something small. Their shared burden.

In his other hand Rukawa still held the sword he had been trying to give away, and so the hilt of _Akira_ pressed gently against Sendoh's thigh.

Rukawa's uncertain embrace, the coldness of the familiar sword, suddenly made it clear to Sendoh the sacrifice he was making.

 _He's already decided,_ Sendoh realised, _to give up on his chance at revenge. The sword is at the centre of his plan – the thing he has been investing everything he has into, and yet he'd choose to give it up in exchange for the meagre chance that I might survive._

 _He has more reason to desire revenge than I._

 _If he would give it all up for me, surely I can do the same?_

 _The truth is that I'd give up much, much more for him if I had to._

 _But._

"Kaede, are you sure? You really want me to go?"

He nodded without hesitation. "Yes."

 _Leaving now is no guarantee of survival. Sakuragi might still hunt me down even as I run from him like a cowardly rat._

 _I'd rather die facing him with a sword in my hand. But then again, I'd rather live for Kaede, if I can. If there's any way… any small chance that I can be with him then…_

 _...isn't that all that I want?_

Sendoh drew slowly back, and held out his hand. "Give me the sword."

Rukawa stared at him in amazement.

Sendoh gave a short nod as if to confirm, working hard to hold his countenance sure, though his eyes were troubled.

 _Every instinct I have screams at me to stay beside him._

 _That I should be with him. Protect him. Face our enemy side by side._

 _But._

 _I know what I am. I am Akira. I am the sword._

 _Perhaps I really am the weapon Kaede could use to bring down a god._

 _Or perhaps I am the blade with which Sakuragi will slit his throat._

 _I cannot know my fate. To bring victory or defeat. Either seems too much. Perhaps it is better to run. To never know._

 _Akira_ was ice cold and unfamiliar in his hands. Like it didn't belong there. Still he gripped it as Rukawa pushed it quickly into his grasp, their lips meeting at the same time. A kiss Sendoh could barely feel. A strange numbness had come upon him.

 _I am kissing him goodbye,_ he realised in astonishment. It seemed totally unreal.

His legs seemed unsteady. He gripped Kaede's sword tighter.

"You'll come and find me, after the gate closes?" His voice sounded steady enough, yet it echoed in his ears as if he was speaking from somewhere far away.

"Of course I will."

"Don't… don't die."

"He wouldn't kill me, even if I begged him to."

Sendoh pulled _Innocence_ from his obi. His movements were mechanical. Automatic. His hands belonging to someone else. His voice that of another person's too. "Take this then. You can't be without a sword."

 _Did I dream this?_ he recalled vaguely the visions of earlier in the morning. That he would give me his sword? That I would give him mine? Or… was it something else entirely? He couldn't seem to recall.

Rukawa stared down at the offered sword, and hesitated. A strange expression crossed his face. A peculiar unwillingness.

Sendoh frowned a little at his reaction.

His lips began to form a query, to ask why, but at that moment, all his senses lit up in dire warning.

With a jolt as if coming back to life, Sendoh snapped into an intense alertness, the sense wringing through his stomach like barbed wire.

Beneath their feet, the floor moved. They looked downwards together. A lurch so violent they might have lost their footing sent them reaching for one another. It felt like an earthquake, but there was nothing natural about it. It was accompanied by a rush of sickness so intense Sendoh could only remember having felt it like this once before.

For a moment he saw the tavern all around him. Koshino's trampled body. Ikegami's slit throat. The light and the chaos.

He gasped for breath, his vision going blurry as he struggled to look past the trees to see that a brilliant light had burst from the farm house. _Yoku_ was fracturing into distorted shapes like broken glass before their eyes. The light was coming from within, overwhelming the walls, bursting from the windows and gaps in the wood. Parts of the roof were turning to ash, disintegrating into black nothing. It looked as though it were being sucked into its own centre.

For a moment, Sendoh could make no sense of it.

"The gate," he realised finally.

 _We_ _a_ _re_ _too late_ , he thought numbly. _He's already_ _here_ _._

"Hisashi!" he heard Kaede beside him. "Kiminobu!"

Rukawa wrenched _Akira_ back out of Sendoh's hands, reclaiming the sword he had, moments ago, been so determined to give away. He was already turning towards the house, heading towards the blinding madness.

Everything about him was different in that second. Gone was the honesty, the softness, the feeling with which he had pressed himself into Sendoh's arms. Now all at once his eyes were fire and his stance was war.

Sendoh's eyes widened. "Wait! Don't get too close to the-!"

His half-formed shout was ignored as Rukawa ran forward, out of the trees, drawing his sword rapidly, his eyes fixed upon the collapsing building, nothing but resolve and bravery in his face.

Sendoh followed quickly, mirroring Rukawa's action and pulling _Innocence_ free with a decisive snap of his arm, suppressing the pain in his gut through sheer force of will, shaking his head as if to clear it of the intoxicating influence of the gate.

As he emerged from the trees, it was in time to see familiar vines of blackness rocket out of the house, bursting out from the walls in an explosion of splintered wood, shooting towards where they stood as if to skewer them.

Sendoh lifted his sword defensively as they came at them, but as before they did not attack him, but hurtled only towards Rukawa.

But Rukawa had expected them this time. He had the presence of mind to swing _Akira_ sharply around, and at the meanest brush of contact with the angelic blade, the black vines disintegrated. Immediately, however, the tendrils he defeated were replaced by more, snaking and twisting their way out of the crumbling building.

"Hisashi!" he called again, trying to press forwards towards the house, but unable while the vines pressured him, driving him back. "Kiminobu!"

Sendoh was beside him at once, bringing _Innocence_ around to help protect Rukawa from the attacks, remembering how last time the touch of just one had disabled Rukawa's arm for days. They were simple enough to defeat, but there were many of them, and the cost of a mistake would be high.

 _They only attack Kaede. Why? Is it because... he is a demon?_

Even as he wondered at it, a crash like an explosion caught his attention. Sendoh looked to see a powerful winged demon burst out of the house, physically bursting through the wall as he came, sending wood and splinters across the yard.

In flight he seemed so huge and powerful, with wings like pitch that seemed to block out the sky, so that for a wild second Sendoh thought it was Sakuragi himself.

But then he saw following close behind, twisting around each other like snakes, a dozen black vines in pursuit, licking at the demon's ankles.

 _Mitsui_ , Sendoh realised in astonishment.

He had never seen Mitsui's full form. His wings were much larger than Kaede's. Everything about him at the moment was terrifying. The snarl on his lips, the blaze of his eyes, the pitch blackness of the wings that propelled him through the air. In his arms, Kogure hung limp and lifeless as Mitsui carried him away towards safety.

But even as Sendoh watched, one of the vines finally looped itself around Mitsui's ankle, snapping taut and pulling him back. Mitsui let out a yell as the vine burned its way into his flesh, and dropped – himself and Kogure's limp body – all together falling heavily to the grass with a thud like breaking bones. A dozen vines immediately turned mid-air and descended towards them both.

Seeing clearly in his mind's eye what was about to happen, Sendoh wound his arm back and flung _Innocence_ as hard as he could. She vibrated through the air, her song rising in his ears, passing through the vine that had Mitsui's leg trapped, shattering it into mere dust, skidding away across the grass.

He felt a moment of relief when Mitsui reacted at once, unable to walk on his wounded leg, he nonetheless beat hard with the great expanse of his wings, regaining the air with Kogure in his arms, sparing Sendoh only a shooting glance before disappearing beyond the trees as fast as possible.

"Let's go," Sendoh called out to Rukawa beside him, who was still fully occupied with the dark vines. "Mitsui and Kiminobu are out. Let's follow them."

Rukawa nodded and began to retreat back towards the trees.

Sendoh felt vulnerable and exposed without his sword in his hand. His eyes went to _Innocence_ laying on the grass where he'd thrown her. She was perhaps a hundred metres away. He wondered if he could risk running to reach her. The vines weren't targeting him, but...

He recalled briefly how Mitsui could call Vengeance to him, and felt frustrated that he still couldn't manage the same.

Rukawa was moving backwards at a pace now, obviously keen to meet up with Mitsui as soon as possible. Sendoh felt helpless, unable to aid Rukawa in fending off the attacks of the vines. It seemed to him that the intensity of the attacks was increasing and increasing. More and more vines seemed to be coming, as if the gate had turned the entirety of its attention upon Rukawa alone now that Mitsui had gone.

Finally making up his mind, Sendoh took two steps towards _Innocence_ where she lay. He was worthless, he reasoned, without a sword.

"Go!" Sendoh shouted to Rukawa, watching as Rukawa's wings began to unfurl behind him in the effort just to hold his ground. Still the vines kept attacking, and Rukawa kept retreating. "I'll follow you… I just..."

He turned away and began to sprint, _Innocence_ in his sights, determined to reach it, his long strides carrying him quickly over the grass. But he'd traversed only half the distance when he realised his mistake.

A stab of pain lanced through his temples. He looked across the lawn to see a giant red wolf sitting casually on the veranda, watching them. It's tail twitched every now and again. It's cruel yellow eyes glittering over two rows of dripping fangs. It was huge. Even larger than Sendoh remembered.

The sight of it make Sendoh's feet freeze to the ground. He turned back on instinct, every single facet of his mind screaming at him to get back to Kaede, abandoning the sword once again.

Turning back to Rukawa desperately, he saw that he was still being driven rapidly backwards over the grass. Sendoh began to run, but already he heard the thumps of the huge running paws against the ground. Saw Rukawa's eyes turn wide and round. Knew he was caught.

"Go!" he shouted out to him desperately. "Go-!" the word was knocked out of him as something heavy crashed into his side and sent him sprawling on the floor, bruising his shoulder, his arms and legs useless and ungainly, the air gone from his lungs.

A low rumble sounded right beside his ear and he turned his head to see those dagger-like fangs were now mere inches away, panting rancid breath into his face. He could feel the impossible weight of the huge animal standing on his back, keeping him against the floor as surely as if he were pinned by a boulder. At each of the four points where the paws crushed him, the unbelievable pain of burning burst over his skin. He would have screamed if he had any air left at all.

Instead, he heard Kaede's horror on his behalf. "Akira!"

Sendoh looked towards him, meeting his eyes across the space. Seeing him still driven back, unable to hold his ground as the vines continued their onslaught.

"Go!" Sendoh managed to splutter, his voice barely a gasp of air, hoping that Rukawa would get the message. "You can't – fight the - gate – just – go!"

 _I won't die_.

He didn't have the air to say it. He screamed it. In his mind. Through his soul.

 _I swear it._

 _I won't die._

 _Not yet._

 _Not while you still need me._

 _Kaede._

 _I won't die yet._

In moments, Rukawa had been forced back, away, beyond the trees, out of sight. Sendoh was alone. He closed his eyes tiredly, feeling the familiar, terrifying helplessness. Knowing the futility of struggling against this weight.

"Well then," Sakuragi's silky voice wafted through his fading senses. "Sendoh Akira. I have _so_ been looking forward to this."

Sendoh managed to crack his eyes open. He felt so tired, his consciousness already flickering uncertainly as the pain of Sakuragi's proximity and the disturbance of the gate made his mind swim and distort.

The wolf was gone. He realised was looking into the face of a snake. Huge and yellow, it's tongue flickering between six inch fangs dripping poison. He could feel its body curling around him. His arms, his legs, his torso pressed tight as it slithered around him, sucking him into its powerful embrace. It took hold of him completely, squeezing him hard until his eyes rolled and his tongue lolled out, desperate for air. Every inch of him was caressed in the thick body of the serpent, wriggling up between his legs and twisting softly around his throat. He didn't have the energy to resist. He was so sleepy. So sleepy…

"This is the day you die, little boy," Sakuragi crooned into his ear, tightening his hold a little more with an ominous creak. "I can't wait to peel open your chest and see that beating heart of yours."

Sendoh barely heard him, his hand opening and closing compulsively, looking for a sword that wasn't there.

 _I won't…_ he tried to gasp ... _die_ … _yet._

But with a final exhale of air, his consciousness collapsed.

-tbc

* * *

Why are these chapters always so frigging long?

Anyhow - got all my story ducks lined up finally, so next one or two chapters will bring this fight to a conclusion one way or another. I do most welcome your predictions and speculation as to what's going to happen. Fascinated to see if you can guess :D


	12. Chapter 11

I'm not sure about the timing/arrangement on this one. There was more backstory originally but I cut out quite a lot because I wanted more time for Sendoh-Sakuragi-Rukawa. Despite the cuts I still think there's too much background. If you find it boring you, please let me know at which points! I will fix it if I can.

Writing without a beta reader is such a nightmare :( if you can see my screw ups and want to help me out please please let me know xx

Please enjoy the penultimate chapter! This fic is... nearly finished! Phew!

* * *

 **Demon  
** **Chapter 11**

 **Warnings** \- _torture/gore, sexual assault, references to rape, you know how it goes ;)_

There was a shuffle of clothes. Echoes. A throat cleared. Old men deliberating old things. Plodding. Utterly uninspired. The same thing, year after year. Grudges grown old. Habits.

Stone tables and stone men.

Nothing ever changed.

Nothing changed here.

Except the names. And sometimes not even those.

"Arts Master?"

"No objection."

"Song Master?"

"No objection."

"Books Master?"

"No objection."

"Name Master?"

"No objection."

Old men clicked around the circle, again and again. The same voices. The same refrain. Each intoning in turn as their position was called.

"Sword Master?"

"No objection."

"Master of Flight?"

"No objection."

"Master of Gates?"

"No objection."

But sometimes the monotony would break.

"Discipline Master?"

"I object."

There was a pause. All sets of wizened eyes looked towards the Discipline Master in a numb dullness, robes shifting quietly.

"State your grounds."

"Fornication."

"Again?!"

The old eyes all moved rightwards. To the face of the Sword Master who had stood up from the bench in protest.

"Order," the Chair said lazily, gesturing for the Sword Master to be seated. He tapped his fingers on the stone plinth. "The objection is carried. Strike his name from the list."

"I cannot accept this," the Sword Master persisted, refusing to be seated. "He is my most talented pupil and this is the fourth time you have denied him! Persist, and you risk-"

"I said, Order!" the Chair interrupted gruffly, his long white beard moving against his vestments. "The ground is valid. Do you dispute the facts?"

"No," the Sword Master admitted, "but this is unreasonable! He is old enough now to-"

"Skill with a sword is insufficient," the Discipline Master spoke icily. "Some might say, wholly irrelevant. As is _age_."

There was a murmur of accord among the other Masters.

"The Convocation of Apprentices is a sacred duty. An apprentice who has failed to satisfy this panel may reflect. May repent. May try again next year. But should he persist in his immoral behaviour, he will do himself no favours. Patience. Purity. Obedience. These are the values we look for, not..." the Discipline Master sneered slightly, "...a propensity to _violence_."

"The objection is carried," the Chair repeated in tired tones. "Strike his name from the list."

The Sword Master sat down slowly. It was rare for an apprentice to be denied the right to graduate. Or at least it _had_ been rare. Until Mitsui Hisashi.

"The Apprentice Kogure Kiminobu upon whom we charge the name of Uriel," the caller announced the next candidate.

The Discipline Master caught the eye of the Sword Master across the round table.

"I object," he pronounced, very slowly.

"State your grounds."

"Fornication."

The Sword Master only sighed.

"The objection is carried. Strike his name from the list."

The Name Master leaned in to the Sword Master. "If this carries on, those two will be apprentices forever," he spoke in a harsh whisper that nonetheless carried to every person in the hall. "They're getting too old for this. Can't you talk to them? Make them see? That Rameel respects you, you know."

The Sword Master shrugged helplessly. "Do you not think I have tried?"

A dozen more names were proclaimed, none of which raised any objections, the young apprentices being thus approved for the Trial that would catapult them to maturity and a life of responsibilities.

But throughout the mindless proceedings, the Sword Master's thoughts were with Mitsui. What he would say. How explosively he would react. How the Sword Master was supposed to talk to him, again. Try to get him to understand, again. Even when it all seemed so unfair. He barely registered the goings on around him.

Until someone else unexpectedly said; "I object."

He lifted his head.

In a long career crossing the millennia he'd never seen more than a handful of apprentices denied, Mitsui Hisashi and Kogure Kiminobu being exceptions, of course.

But he had not expected another rejection this session. Neither, it seemed, had anyone else. They all looked at the Master of Flight.

"State your grounds."

The old man shifted slightly, his hand going up to stroke nervously at his short beard. Then he said, "Seduction."

There was a pause before whispering broke out. This time the Chair did not approve the objection right away.

"Order," he called. "Master of Flight, please elaborate."

The old man rose slowly from his seat. "His eyes," he explained. "His lips. The twist of his fingers. The length of his thighs. The tilt of his head. The brush of his hair. The beauty of his wings. The carnal temptations that radiate from his body."

He sat down, apparently finished.

Chatter broke out again. "None of these are acts," somebody whispered harshly. "How does this comprise seduction?"

The Chair seemed to be thinking hard on this. Eventually, when he opened his mouth to call order, he found that everyone was already looking at him in curiosity over how he would rule.

"The objection is carried," he announced. "Strike his name from the list."

There was an outburst of protest.

"But he has done nothing wrong!"

"He has always been exemplary."

The Chair shook his head as a dozen voices assailed him at once. "Order-"

"All these points are wholly subjective."

"What evidence is there of-"

"Order!" he banged his palm against the plinth. Everyone stared at him. He sighed.

"The ground is valid. Do you deny the facts?" His eyes moved severely among them all. "That his beauty is extraordinary? Do you not feel the heat beneath your skin when you watch him? Is it not the truth, though only the Master of Flight be honest enough to speak it?"

There was silence.

"I understand," he continued, "that you feel this to be unfair. That it is not his fault nor due to any action on his part. But we have only to look at the histories to know what becomes of those in his situation. I do not say he has succumbed or even will succumb to such a path. Yet knowing that the difficulties that face him are greater perhaps than those facing the others, it seems reasonable to me to delay his Trial until such time as we are satisfied he has the wisdom to cope with his responsibilities given his unique... qualities. That is my decision."

There was no arguing. The Sword Master shook his head in disbelief.

"This is an assault upon my Hall," he muttered crossly to himself.

"Strike his name from the list," the Chair repeated. And so it was done.

* * *

When Sendoh regained consciousness, he became aware first of the uncomfortable way his chin slumped down on his chest. Then of the pain in his shoulders. Then his wrists. Then his knees. Every part of him seemed subject to discomfort. Not bright or sharp. A dull and persistent pain for which there was no relief.

He groaned and opened his eyes blearily.

He was on the veranda of _Yoku_. The view so familiar. The farm, broken and neglected. The grass where he'd practised with Kogure. The trees. Even the old courtyard walls. It all looked the same. Just the same. That thought struck him hard.

He was on his knees. Crossing his chest, tight under his arms, were familiar ropes that seemed to be woven from darkness itself, binding him to a post behind, preventing him from crumpling where he knelt. Doubtless the post was one of the roof supports he'd seen Mitsui leaning casually against a dozen times. That he'd seen Kaede attack in a rare moment of frustration. That he'd walked past and paid no attention to, never seeing it for what it was: the place where his life's worth would be measured out.

His arms were pulled outwards taut either side, lashed by the wrists to similar posts right and left by the same dark ropes. The binds were so tight he felt his shoulders ache with the strain, as if his arms might be wrenched from their sockets. His ankles had been bound together behind him, on the further side of the post, so that his calves pressed awkwardly around the wood.

Apart from the mobility of his head and neck, he could not move at all. Already his muscles ached from the forced position. Yet any attempt to relieve the pain in his arms and shoulders by shifting his weight slightly only increased the pain on the opposite side.

He couldn't help but moan softly.

Whatever was behind him, he could not see. He did not dare to imagine what had become of the house now that the gate seemed to have opened in its midst.

He turned his attention to the sense that was dull and persistent. Not gone by any means, but weakened compared to the agony he'd come to expect from Sakuragi's presence. He wondered if he was becoming immune to it.

At the centre of his vision, as if a reminder that none of this was merely some horrible dream, was Sakuragi's sword. Black iron. A huge two-handed claymore that Sendoh doubted he could even lift. _Skipjack_ , Sakuragi had called it. It had been stuck point first into the grass, the hilt forming an ominous black cross directly in front of him, a horrible mirror to the position he was bound in. From it, expanding straight upwards into the empty blue sky above, a shimmer of air, like light or energy. Clearly it was doing something. Sendoh didn't know what.

Further away, forgotten in the grass, a tiny glint of silver caught the sun. _Innocence_. Still laying where he'd thrown her.

It struck him then quite how foolish he'd been. Recklessly loosing her from his hand. And worse, leaving Kaede's side, only to run straight into Sakuragi's hands.

He bit down on his tongue. There was no purpose in regrets. Sakuragi had wanted him and him alone. If not like this, then it would have happened some other way.

"Well, here we are again," Sakuragi's voice drifted into his ear. Sendoh snapped his head to the right. A mistake. The previously dulled sense rose sharply as soon as he allowed himself to be affected by Sakuragi's presence, torching through his head and exploding in his gut. A curse of agony tumbled out of his mouth. The instinct to curl around the pain in his stomach was thwarted by the ropes that did not permit him to move.

He squinted through watering eyes to see that Sakuragi was sitting slightly slouched further down the veranda, his feet on the floor, an unexpectedly serious expression on his handsome face.

He looked strangely homely sitting there, in such a domestic setting. Alone. Calm. No arrogant show or mocking laugh. Lacking the intimidating grandeur he usually flaunted. His red hair was mid-length to his shoulders, gently waved. His eyes a plain brown.

There was something very human about him. He could almost inspire sympathy. But Sendoh could see the way the ancient varnish on the wooden boards was crackling and beginning to peel away from where he sat, as though he were acid.

Still, he was not his usual arrogant self. Whatever unearthly throne he sat upon had been rocked. And Sendoh had been the one to do it.

"All alone, are you?" Sakuragi smiled. But it was half-hearted, the amusement not reaching his eyes.

 _He's serious_ , Sendoh realised finally with dismay.

Abruptly he wondered whether it was he, and not Sakuragi, who was the arrogant one. With what brevity had he walked up to a monster like this and prodded it right in its eye?

He stared at this powerful opponent. This dark entity that had blackened Kaede's existence with such long suffering. This monster he couldn't hope to defeat.

And Kaede had tried so hard to protect him, Sendoh recalled. Had tried to hide him. Hadn't wanted Sakuragi to even catch wind of his existence.

Indeed, if he had been wiser he could perhaps have spent all the days of his life loving Kaede. Being there at his side. Doing whatever was in his power to mitigate Kaede's pain.

But he had not been wise. He had been headstrong and reckless and foolhardy. Putting pressure on Kaede with every stupid choice, letting Kaede rescue him time and again from his own death-loving leanings. Not consciously perhaps, but with an embarrassing self-absorption just the same.

With what godless arrogance had he thought he could challenge the likes of Sakuragi Hanamichi? Why had he not thought of what it would mean for Kaede?

Because it was easy to die. Easy to provoke Sakuragi, and throw his life away in pride and in anger on the edge of Sakuragi's sword. Embracing death because he simply didn't value himself enough to care whether or not he lived or died.

But Kaede did not die. Kaede went on and on. From one hurt and heartache to the next. An undulating, unending agony. And Sendoh would have left him alone. Acting as if the world had wronged him and death was his aim and his due. Careless of the fact that Kaede had fought to keep him alive. Throwing it all back in his face every time he so foolishly provoked the gods of death.

And here he was, once again. Helpless and weak by his own arrogance, merely waiting for Kaede to save him. The same, just the same, as always. How he hated himself in that moment.

His eyes went to the binds that held his wrists tightly. He had the compulsion to draw his arms in, to comfort himself. To seek the sensation of protection from the warmth of his arms against his chest. He tugged at the binds, but there was not even an inch of slack. The effort of trying only made the pain in his shoulders worse, the muscles trembling with the strain. He was totally helpless. His body splayed out for Sakuragi to do as he wished.

He let out his breath in quiet distress. This warm, living flesh, whose true purpose should have been to comfort Kaede, love him, adore him, was now to be wasted - torn apart and sacrificed to Sakuragi's maleficence. And it was his own fault.

Sendoh's mind supplied unhelpful memories of the last time he'd been at Sakuragi's mercy. The terror, pain and humiliation. He had no reason to hope that this time would be anything but worse. He swallowed dryly. The fear and the panic seemed close by. Pressing upon his mind temptingly. Just behind a thin veil of control, too easily swept aside. He could imagine a dozen terrible things, each worse than the last. All the ways Sakuragi could hurt him. It would not take much to break him, he knew. But even if he begged, or surrendered, what would it matter? The agony he would feel had no purpose. No aim. Nothing he would do or say or scream could stop it. Sakuragi would ask him no questions, demand no action. There was nothing noble about what would happen to him. He would suffer for entertainment. For sport. For no reason other than to bring Kaede pain.

He tried to steel himself for the trial he knew he was about to face. But it was hard. It was really hard. He felt like everything he'd counted on, every strength he had, was dangling just beyond his reach. Mocking him. As if it had never been real. As if he'd been lying to himself all along.

Every falsehood had been stripped away and now it was just his naked soul laid bare before Sakuragi's judgment.

Strength. Bravery. Pride. The words were meaningless. The fact was that he was scared. Scared of what Sakuragi would do to him. Scared of how easily he would break, and beg, and cry.

He grit his teeth. Was he really this pathetic? _Come on, Akira._ He shook his side from side to side, but it didn't help much.

Sakuragi's slow, deliberate footsteps reached his ears. He closed his eyes tight and tried to focus on his breathing, tried to hold the terror at bay.

The first touch was a slap. A heavy backhand across his face that sent his head snapping to the side, blinding hotness across his cheek from his jaw to his eye. He gasped. There was a corresponding rush of pain in his shoulder as his weight became unbalanced and pulled heavily on his already stricken right arm so he was sure it would break.

Sendoh expected the second slap, but still it came before he had any chance to recover, disorientating him. Sakuragi was so strong. So, so strong. Two simple blows and Sendoh barely knew which way was up and which was down. He sagged in his binds, unable to stay upright, hanging from his wrists and letting his shoulders take his weight, feeling the agony tear through his arms.

He took a desperate breath before the next hit could knock it out of him. But Sakuragi's touch had already changed. Instead of a blow, he felt an open palm caressing his hurt skin in apology. Wiping his leaking tears with one thumb.

He became aware that Sakuragi had knelt on the veranda in front of him, so that they were level. His closed eyelids fluttered slightly, an anxious moan on his tongue. But before he could form a coherent thought, Sakuragi was kissing him.

It was a... kiss. A real one. Designed to give pleasure. Nothing like the last time Sakuragi had penetrated his throat and raped his mouth.

Unable to back away or resist, he was forced to accept that Sakuragi had total dominance over him, and Sendoh could feel the demon's lips curved into a familiar smirk where they mouthed at his own. Sendoh's shoulders spasmed weakly in pain. He felt a thick tongue forcibly push past his teeth, filling his mouth, licking into him slowly.

Dazed and disorientated though he was, Sendoh still had sense enough to bite down hard on the invading tongue, yet despite his teeth sinking sharply in, it had no effect. The tongue was hot and soft and undeniably made of flesh, yet Sendoh might as well have tried to bite into a steel bar. He could not harm Sakuragi at all.

Sakuragi's hands firmly tilted his head to the side, allowing him to push closer and deeper. The demon tongue oozed deliberately around his mouth, exploring every inch in slow, wet slides. Prickling over his teeth, sloppy and smooth against his own tongue, rubbing up to the roof of his mouth. Sendoh swallowed nervously, and felt revolted by the tepid saliva that surged down his throat. He let out another anxious groan.

Sakuragi's hands drifted up into his hair, caressing and stroking him gently, flexing his fingers to gently tug at the stands, as if he were a lover and the experience was a pleasurable one. His body pressed up against Sendoh's front. Saliva escaped from between their lips and began to drip from Sendoh's chin.

Sendoh's skin was crawling with revulsion. His stomach turned so hard he thought he might vomit. He clenched his fists in the restraints, and even welcomed the distracting pain in his shoulders that the action brought. The sense kept stabbing through his stomach in sheer horror.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Sakuragi pulled away with a tender release of his breath, leaning back to stare into Sendoh's face. His lips, Sendoh saw, shimmered pink and wet and soft.

"I can't taste him at all," Sakuragi muttered in disappointment, his eyes a dark shade of midnight blue. "I was so sure I would be able to taste it." He licked his lips subconsciously. "You've had it in your mouth, right? Kaede's pleasure..." He reached out and ran a finger over Sendoh's lips, smearing the saliva over his skin. "How does it taste?"

Sendoh could only stare dazedly at him."You're mad," he managed to choke out.

Sakuragi smiled. "Mad? Is love madness? I have heard it said so." His sloppy fingers trailed down Sendoh's chest, wrinkling the fabric of his clothes, brushing purposefully against his groin and smirking when Sendoh shuddered nervously. But then his hand turned up again, running up over his ribs, his armpit, drifting curiously along his pained arm.

"You're a handsome man," he observed, rising to his feet. "A strong body. A handsome smile," he let his hands run up Sendoh's left arm, all the way to his hand and took the tip of his little finger between his thumb and index finger, giving it a gentle squeeze. "But _why_?" he licked his lips. "Why _you_? Why would he _want_ you? Am I not a thousand times your worth? Do I not hold the keys to this entire world around my neck? Do I not command armies in the thousands? In the tens of thousands?"

He tightened his hold on Sendoh's fingertip into something painful, and Sendoh hissed nervously.

"So why?" Sakuragi demanded again, scowling in frustration. "When you are so weak. So pitiful. So very easy for me to break."

His thumb and index finger came together with a crunch.

For a second Sendoh couldn't feel it. He was strangely disconnected from the pain. His eyes were blank as they took in how the end of his finger had been smashed to a paste of power and blood that dripped out from between Sakuragi's fingers.

Then, abruptly, it rushed upon him.

He had to set his teeth as an involuntary snarl forced its way past his clenched jaw, every muscle in his body jerking instinctively. It hurt. It hurt so much. He tried to fight it off, his own instinct to thrash and to panic. He tried to block it out. But the pain kept flowing, up his arm, into his mind, relentless and determined that he must acknowledge it. Must feel it. Must scream with it. Though he fought, he quickly found himself loosing control, his breath shortening to a gasping struggle, miserable whimpering, his jaw slackening into a mindless expression of brokenness even as his body insisted on struggling against his binds.

Sakuragi's sticky red fingers slid slowly down to the next joint of the same finger, and began to roll it gently in his grip.

"No-" Sendoh groaned anxiously.

The panicked thoughts that had been spinning through his mind slowed now to a horrible concentrated silence. He couldn't form sentences or meaning. It was all he could do to merely hold himself conscious. The feeling of Sakuragi's grip squeezing a little harder upon the next bone in his finger was everything.

He tugged harder at the binds, some primitive part of him desperate to withdraw his hand from the danger even though the pain in his shoulders was agonising, but it was hopeless.

"Please-" he whispered hoarsely, knowing that it wouldn't work. That Sakuragi had no mercy. None.

Sakuragi did not even seem to hear him, simply snapping his fingers together once again, as if casually plucking petals from daisies.

This time Sendoh screamed, the pain gurgling wetly up his throat, his body renewing its frantic thrashing. He didn't dare to look at the state of his mangled finger as Sakuragi's fingers moved down to the third and final joint.

Sakuragi paused as he rolled the flesh once again, taking a moment to turn his face, his eyes brightening to see Sendoh's expression.

"Oh, yes," he smiled, "handsome boy. Let me see your face. Your pain is so beautiful, did you know?" he licked his lips and tightened his grip ominously. "You're so good, letting me take you slowly, opening up for me like this. We're going to crush each and every bone. One by one. Starting here with your fingers, then your hands. By the time I start on your arms I expect you'll have the idea." He smiled, "Try and stay conscious."

He leaned down, bringing his face close once again, his tongue sliding out to lick the side of Sendoh's face, collecting the sweat and the tears. "Your terror tastes so good," he whispered. " _So_ good."

He brought his fingers together for the third time.

The world around Sendoh seemed to shutter closed into strange and impenetrable blackness.

He didn't know if Sakuragi was speaking still. He heard the screams but didn't know he'd made then. Felt himself struggling but couldn't control his jerking muscles. If Sakuragi had moved on to his next finger, Sendoh didn't know. Not even the sense broke through his consciousness now. He couldn't think of anything at all, just struggling, his breath reduced to rasping gasps scratching through his throat, his eyes screwed tightly closed as he fought and fought against his his own mind slipping away from him. Time passed, but he had no concept of it. How many fingers had be lost? He didn't know. He was just trapped in this one moment. Him and his agony. And in the whole world there was nothing else. It did not abate. It went on and on. Perhaps he was muttering or begging or chanting. Anything to hang on to reason. Bubbles of spit frothing at his lips. His eyes blinded by pain.

It hurt. It hurt more and more. It didn't abate but rose, higher and higher, worse and worse.

The blackness deepened. He couldn't hold on forever. He could feel himself sinking, the darkness rising up to meet him. He couldn't stay afloat.

As he blacked out, Sakuragi gave a disappointed tut. "Mortals are really no fun."

* * *

Mitsui, as it turned out, was furious. His hands moved in wide, angry gestures. "He is my _mate,"_ he thundered, voice echoing through the grand hall of swords. "My heart. My _life_. To the exclusion of all others. It is obvious to everyone. Would they permit me, I would swear to him right now. This second!"

The Sword Master only shook his head unhappily. "Apprentices are not permitted to form marital bonds, as you well know."

"We wouldn't still _be_ apprentices if they would only stop being so fucking-"

"Hisashi," Kogure said softly beside him, and shook his head, cutting him off.

Mitsui looked so angry he might foam at the mouth, still he held back from whatever he had been about to say.

Once again the Sword Master was forced to admire the strength of bond between the two of them. The unique influence Kogure had over this unruly individual. Nevertheless he crossed his arms. "I have tried," he said. "I have argued for you again and again. But I don't have the influence in the Council that the Discipline Master holds. Our Hall is not as well-respected as perhaps it once was. If it were up to me of course I would approve you. But as it is, I do not know what advice to give you any more. If only you would abstain. Keep apart from each other. It is only a year. And after that, you may be wed formally, and no more of these ugly accusations can be brought against you."

Mitsui gave a snort of derision. "Do you believe that?" he demanded. "Do you truly believe that they would forgive and forget after a year of abstinence? The Discipline Master _hates_ me. He has always hated me. If it is not this, it will be something else. Some other excuse. He will find some way to deny me, and to deny Kiminobu, as long as he can. He _enjoys_ tormenting me. He would like nothing better than to congratulate himself on having forced us to be apart. Do you deny that is true?"

The Sword Master hesitated. Then he sighed. "I do not want you to be Apprentices forever," he said unhappily.

Mitsui dropped his eyes and stared at the floor, his anger spluttering out, his shoulders drooping a little. Kogure's hands moved soothingly over his back.

Another voice said, "What does this have to do with me?"

The Sword Master turned, remembering the other member of the Hall whom he had summoned.

He was sitting quietly on a low column, unobtrusive. He could himself have been one of the marble statues of the Hall; cold and still and flawless.

He was watching the proceedings silently, radiant in his plain cream robes and sandals, that revealed nothing more scandalous than his ankles. He was another unusual apprentice. Not as skilled as Mitsui perhaps, but he was talented beyond a doubt. Besides, he was more focused and more disciplined than his senior by far.

Still, the Sword Master had never had an apprentice quite like this one. What the Master of Flight had said was an unfortunate truth. The boy was beautiful. Innocent. Virginal and tempting. Everything about him sang a sinful song of purity. The sweet bow of his lips. The delicate shape of his waist. His lily-white skin. It would make anyone want to teach him. Want to show him. Want to break him. There was certainly something in him that made ugly primal desires seem to rise. It was a little troubling.

The Sword Master did not think that the Council had denied him maliciously. They sought to protect him, he knew, from the risks. Someone powerful might pursue him. Might seek to play out all those nasty little desires he seemed to inspire.

Holding him back as an apprentice might protect him temporarily, but would it help?

The boy was naive. That was part of his appeal. And infantilising him for another year would make it worse, not better. What he needed, the Sword Master felt, was a chance to grow up. But the decision was not his.

"I'm sorry, Rukawa-kun. Your application to Trial was also denied."

The boy looked astonished. His eyes widening. Gorgeous. "Why?"

"Well..." the Sword Master frowned a little. "There were some concerns that you might not be ready to face some of the responsibilities that you should be prepared for."

The boy tilted his head a little, his delicate neck temptingly bared. Smooth white skin that would break under someone's teeth, drawing the lewdest of moans from those innocent lips. "What responsibilities?"

"Well, um-" the Sword Master felt deeply uncomfortable. "How to manage some of your... relationships. Relationships that have a _physical_ element, I suppose."

The boy appeared clueless. "Like physical conditioning?"

Mitsui let out a loud snort of laughter.

The boy did not look any less blank. "What?"

Mitsui stalked over to him, a sneer on his lips. "Late bloomer, are you? Don't tell me you don't know." He leaned closer, but the younger boy did not react, only gazing back at him curiously. "Don't tell me you don't know all the things those old men want to do to you."

"What- do you mean-?"

Mitsui tutted. "You're hopeless. Given half a chance, some lecherous old Councilman will absolutely ruin you," he threw up his hands. "No wonder they won't let you join the Trial. I bet they only agreed to hold you back because they're each worried it'll be some other old pervert who gets in before them."

The boy flushed a gentle pink. So sweet. His blue eyes round with innocent confusion that only made the temptation all the stronger.

The Sword Master sighed. Perhaps, he reflected, the Council were right. Perhaps it was for the best. It would be too easy for someone to manipulate him, take advantage of him. It wasn't that he was any less mature than the rest of his cohort, it was just that he was so much more likely to run into trouble. Because he was absolutely exquisite. You could feel it, like an overflowing well in your gut. Desire, pooling heavy and fast. To put him on his knees. To spread his legs. To break him open.

The Master had to clear his throat.

"Well, the three of you will need to stay here while the Trials are run," he informed them. He sent Mitsui a stare. "And no messing around. The last thing you need is to be in more trouble."

Mitsui shrugged evasively. The Sword Master glanced at Rukawa Kaede who was still pursing his lips in confused thought. It was difficult to tell what he was thinking.

At least, he reasoned, spending time with the likes of Mitsui might be good for him. Mitsui was astute, with a rather worldly view of things. Perhaps some of his attitude would rub off on his junior.

Yes, the Sword Master felt rather optimistic. Perhaps bringing these three personalities together would result in something good. He certainly hoped so.

Once he'd gone, Mitsui turned to Kogure with the kind of expression that showed he had something in mind.

"What?" Kogure questioned him suspiciously, but with a quiet ripple of amusement in his voice that always meant he was ready to go. "What are you planning?"

"Well..." Mitsui lifted an eyebrow meaningfully.

Kogure rolled his eyes. "Not this again."

"Don't you want to know what else is out there?" Mitsui demanded.

"Not as badly as you do," Kogure retorted, though he was smiling still. The affection in his eyes was obvious.

Mitsui turned to the only other occupant of the room. "What about you?" he demanded, hoping for some support. "Don't you want to see the other planes?"

Rukawa's look was blank at the unexpected question. "We're not allowed," he replied with an indifferent shrug.

Mitsui put his hands on his hips. "Aren't you apprentices of the Sword? What are you guys so scared of?"

"I'm not scared," Rukawa responded coldly. "But all the gates are sealed."

"It might be dangerous," Kogure added. But that only seemed to make Mitsui all the more excited.

"So what? It's better than sitting around here all day doing _nothing_ because we're stuck as _apprentices_ for yet another fucking year. I mean, think about it, we might see a mortal, or even a black-blood _._ A _real_ one."

Rukawa wrinkled his nose. "What's so great about that?"

Kogure was still worried. "They could attack us."

Mitsui only scoffed. "Come on. You don't seriously think those ugly mortal-hunters are match for _us_ do you?" he raised his wings to their full span, ruffling them purposefully to make them seem bigger. He looked the part; the most talented swordsman in the Hall. Something about him certainly could inspire confidence. "And if there's trouble, we'll outrun them. Demons are slow. And stupid. We learned it, remember?"

"Yeah but... I don't know Hisashi. How will we get down there? Rukawa-kun is right. All the gates are closed."

Mitsui grinned at him. "The Master of the Gates will be at the trial. No one will be watching carefully. This is our chance to find a way through."

Kogure rolled his tongue thoughtfully in his mouth, his toes curling a little in his sandals, wrinkling his nose in that way that Mitsui always loved. He looked very tempted by the adventure, despite his protests. "Well I guess there's no harm in seeing how the gates work," he conceded.

Mitsui nodded eagerly. "Right," he turned his eyes to Rukawa. "We'll need a lookout. You coming? Or are you just gonna sit here like a good little apprentice doing what you're told?"

Rukawa sighed. "This is stupid," he complained. But he rose to his feet and followed them out of the Hall anyway. After all, he reasoned, there was nothing else to do. And if he was honest it really was maybe just a little bit exciting.

Mitsui, for some reason, would always remember him as he was at that moment. Not the moments later, exploring the wood they found themselves in. Not how the mortal's moonlight caught his hair nor how radiant he appeared under the unfamiliar stars of an unknown world. Not even in the chaos and the chase, and the fear, stumbling, heart-racing flight and the terrified realisation of the hunt that had turned like stones in their stomachs. They realisation that they'd become separated. The way Mitsui had stumbled through the woods calling Kogure's name in terror. The relief upon finding him that had quickly evaporated with the realisation that Kaede had not been with him.

No. It was the way he rose from his seat on the column. His lowered eyes and his disinterest. His simplicity, following them without particular care or question. That was what Mitsui remembered most. How unfair it all was.

But it was the same for all of them.

They had all been young and foolish and so incredibly naive. And when Mitsui looked back and remembered those last precious moments of innocence, it always hurt.

* * *

The silence was tense and awkward now.

Mitsui sat on a rock amid the trees, running his fingers over the burns on his leg, testing the strange numbness that had rendered it useless. He couldn't put any weight on it at all.

But despite the motion of his hand, his eyes were fixed on Kaede, making silent comparisons with times long ago. Seeing how he had changed. He - who been absolute perfection untouched.

What had he become? Mitsui wasn't sure.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath. "Shit, shit, shit."

What the fuck were they doing here? What the fuck were any of them doing here? Everything was his fault.

 _What the hell is wrong with me?_

Beside him, Kogure's warmth pressed against his arm comfortingly. But he didn't deserve it at all. His eyes turned to see that Kiminobu was anxiously watching Kaede too.

 _Why do you still love me?_ he wanted to demand of him. Rail at him. Scream at him. _Why do you remain beside me? I've done everything wrong. Everything._

His eyes went back to Kaede who was sitting with his back to nothing, apparently leaning against the air, his eyes closed, listening.

 _He doesn't deserve this. He never deserved any of this._

Every so often, a scream would come from the house. Sendoh's voice. Every time Kaede's face would tense, shadows moving across his expression. He ground his fingers hard against the soil until his nails were bleeding, his head rolling back again and again to strike against the invisible barrier as if he could knock the noise out of his mind.

It made Mitsui feel sick. He wanted to shake him. To snap him out of it. To protect him somehow from this nightmare.

But there was nothing he or any of them could do.

They'd already explored the barrier thoroughly. It ran as a dome over the whole area, preventing their entrance. They'd known Sakuragi had magicks, but none of them really knew the boundaries of his strengths or abilities. They had never been strong enough to push his limits. It wasn't particularly surprising that he could block them out like this. But it was aggravating all the same.

Kaede's distress was obvious. Earlier he'd been restless and frantic. Though now he sat quietly, only listening, rocking himself soothingly, and striking his head regularly against the barrier, it was worse somehow.

It made Mitsui furious. He wanted to slam his sword into something.

"Kaede," Kogure finally interrupted, causing Rukawa to open his eyes and glance at him for a moment. Kogure was sat leaning against Mitsui for support. He was pale and unsteady. The gate had affected him far more than it had they. Perhaps because he had so much less experience, less exposure, than they did. Perhaps because of what he was; a slayer who had never slayed. Was the pain that much worse for the fact that he had resisted it for so long?

"Why don't you leave?" Kogure suggested, and Mitsui found himself nodding along. "You don't need to be here. Sakuragi is doing this to hurt you. There's no need to let him succeed. Hisashi and I will stay here and..." he hesitated, trying to think of the right words, "...bear witness," he decided, and he frowned sadly, "...for Akira."

Mitsui had stopped nodding. He did not like the sound of that at all. He did not want to listen to the mortal screaming as he died. He did not want to stay here. He wanted to be literally anywhere else. But he wouldn't leave without Kaede, and Kaede didn't seem to be going anywhere. On the other hand, nor was Mitsui on his useless leg. And someone probably needed to listen to the screams, he supposed. Give respect to a life being erased. Give meaning to meaningless suffering. Or some such shit. Fuck.

But Kaede had closed his eyes again.

"Don't you think I deserve this?" he replied.

Mitsui presumed the question was meant to be rhetorical, but Kogure answered it anyway.

"Of course you don't deserve this!" he exclaimed. "Kaede-"

But Rukawa shook his head. "This is my punishment," he asserted, his voice heavy and strange. "I will listen to every minute."

Mitsui felt the sigh in Kogure's chest press on his arm. He swallowed. He wondered what he would have done if he had been in Kaede's place. Whether he would be able to bear the sound of Kogure screaming like this, while knowing that he was the cause. He didn't know how Kaede was keeping himself together at all.

"How did Sakuragi get past the wards?" he asked quickly, eager to change the subject, trying to force his mind to something else. Anything else. "Are all the mansions breached?"

Unsurprisingly, Kaede didn't answer. As if he hadn't heard the question or he just didn't care. But Kogure put his fingers to his lips and hummed quietly. "Perhaps. I don't know exactly how but - I guess that the gate somehow split the sacred ground, and that then broke the wards."

"So he could do the same thing at all the others?"

"Maybe. I don't know how easy it is to open the gate. I doubt he could beach them all very quickly. The gates take time to cycle, right?"

Mitsui closed his eyes. "It's still bad news," he said heavily. "It'll be hard without the mansions."

"Yeah," Kogure acknowledged quietly. "It's pretty bad."

It was an understatement. Without a sanctuary to hide them, they could be attacked any time, or all the time, continuously. It didn't matter how well they fought, they were hopelessly outnumbered. The fact was that they wouldn't likely survive long at all.

"Shit," Mitsui grumbled once again.

"If you can slay Sakuragi Hanamichi," a third voice pointed out brightly. "The gates will be thrown into chaos, and grant you some reprieve."

Mitsui had already leapt to his feet at the first word, his eyes fixing on the newcomer threateningly, and although he had to lean against the rock to support his weight, he did his best to hide it.

"Who the fuck are you?" he snarled, his hand gripping _Vengeance's_ hilt in threat.

Kogure wobbled a little without Mitsui to lean upon, his mouth opening in surprise to find that someone had managed to sneak up on them so successfully. Rukawa did not react.

The boy smiled sweetly at Mitsui. He was perched on a low branch of a nearby tree, swinging his legs in the air. He was the strangest sight that Mitsui could have imagined. He seemed tired yet youthful, with dust over his cheeks and in his hair, dressed in a pure white kimono. The silk was clean and unblemished. Like a funeral. Like the dead. He was smiling. But his eyes were broken.

No pain, Mitsui realised at once. The sense did not react at all. And this stranger was not armed either. No sword, or any weapon Mitsui could see. Was he a mortal then? No. Not with eyes like that. And besides, no ordinary mortal would be hanging around in these woods and casually envoking the name of Sakuragi Hanamichi. No. But the only other possibility left him dumbfounded.

"No one important," the boy answered him lightly. He smiled again at Mitsui, and gave a minute lick of his lips. Then he dropped delicately down from his perch, his slippers absolutely silent against the floor. His fractured green eyes moved over them each in turn.

"Well, well," he remarked. "What an honour. The three apprentices themselves. First, second and third. I heard that you had a new toy, but I don't see him. Perhaps I was mistaken. A handsome mortal boy. I so wanted to meet him. Don't tell me he's dead already?"

Mitsui narrowed his eyes and curled his lip. "Did Sakuragi send you?" he demanded.

The stranger laughed sweetly. "Don't be ridiculous," he responded, lifting his eyes to Mitsui, his expression shamelessly flirtatious. "You have been seriously misled if you believe that the hellspawn can command the fallen."

"The fallen?" Mitsui muttered unhappily, his suspicion being confirmed.

The boy smirked. His form rippled for a moment, distorted as if from the heat of a fire. The bat-like leathery wings of a demon materialised silently behind him. They didn't expand outwards, but fell heavy from his shoulders like tumbling drapes. Leaden and limp. Mitsui recoiled in disgust. They were patchy and damaged and useless. Very much like the look in the boy's eyes.

"I know who you are," Kogure realised, his eyes narrowing with dislike. "You're the debaucher. The stuprator. The one they named _Semyaza_. Fujima Kenji."

Fujima's expression brightened at once. He took another step towards Kogure, prompting Mitsui to move forward, standing inbetween them with a warning scowl.

"Do you mean they still tell my story?" Fujima asked eagerly. "Up there? Do they teach all the little apprentices about me?"

Kogure did not answer, only staring at Fujima in disapproval.

"What do they say?" Fujima wanted to know, excited curiosity brightening his face. "What do they say about me?"

Kogure looked repulsed. "That you are the bane of mortals. You rape mortal women. You fill them with pestilence and befoul them with your seed, so they birth monsters and nephilim."

Fujima's expression turned a little slack. He seemed disappointed, if not surprised. He leaned back and sighed, shaking his head. "Lies" he replied. "Lies, of course. But why would anyone expect anything else from the Council?"

Mitsui folded his arms. "Then what is the truth?"

"The truth?" Fujima tilted his head almost as if the word meant nothing to him. As if he'd never heard it before. Then he held up a finger. "I have never raped anyone. I was exiled for laying with a mortal, that is true. But I loved her and she loved me, to the exclusion of all others; then and for all the days of her life." He held up a second finger. "And the hellspawn are not birthed. They are brought forth. No mortal could _bear_ them. The very idea is obviously absurd."

Mitsui looked appalled. "Are you saying that you have brought forth hellspawn?" he demanded.

Fujima smirked a little, the small motion of his tongue once again sliding over his lips, the slightest tilt of his head as he considered Mitsui with approval.

"Certainly, Rameel. You have the power too, did you not know? You. And Sariel too."

Mitsui flinched slightly. "My name is Mitsui," he snapped.

Fujima didn't seem to care. "If you say so." He smiled again, letting his gaze slide down Mitsui's body meaningfully, his eyes bright with lascivious hunger. "You should have come to me years ago," he complained. "I would have sheltered you. I would have taken care of you. You didn't need to tie yourself like a dog to the Council that condemned you. You wouldn't even have had need of your emissary," he smiled provokingly at Kogure, "I would have sucked your cock every night."

Mitsui was struck dumb by Fujima's forwardness. Far out of his depth, he looked half scandalised. This was not the kind of enemy he was used to dealing with. Not knowing quite how to respond he stepped a little closer to Kogure, and Fujima only laughed.

"They exiled you for loving a mortal?" Rukawa's unexpected voice questioned quietly.

Fujima spun towards him at once. There was a strange hunger in his eyes. " _Ah_. Sariel himself. Rukawa Kaede. _The Third_. The youngest, the most beautiful, the most innocent. You have no idea how long I have dreamed of meeting you."

Rukawa moved finally, lifting himself from where he sat, stepping away from the barrier he could not cross, his eyes fixed on this very strange individual who had appeared among them so unexpectedly. "How do you know of me?"

Fujima smiled. " _Everyone_ knows of you. Sakuragi's beautiful doll." He lifted his hands from a distance as if to frame Rukawa's face. "I did not think it could be true. That you could be as beautiful as Sakuragi always said. And yet I am proven wrong. Here you are. A true vision. Delicate like ice, that innocent face of yours. No wonder that he loves you so desperately. I don't usually care for needy little lovers, but I must confess that you tempt even me. I could teach you how to use that body. Teach you how to make that mortal boy scream your name. Would you like that?"

Rukawa coloured a little in anger. But before he could spit something back, Fujima was continuing. "Ironic though, isn't it?" he smiled. "That you should find yourself in my shoes. I who brought Sakuragi Hanamichi into existence - twisted him with the love I bore my mortal wife. How strange that you of all people should find yourself walking my path." He put his hand to his chest. "Look carefully, innocent one. You are seeing your future. What tales will they tell of you, do you think? How will they lie and twist your story as they have done to mine? Compared to the blood and sin on _your_ innocent hands, they ought to revere me as a saint. Angel or monster. What are you, really? I'm curious to know."

Rukawa ignored the question. "You created Hanamichi?" he demanded quietly instead, everything about him prickling in animosity as he glared at Fujima.

Fujima only laughed. "The hellspawn are born of the darkest parts of ourselves," he explained. "Gruesome caricatures of our pain and suffering. The agony I felt loving a woman who I was powerless to save. The pain of watching her grow old and frail before my eyes..." he trailed off, his smile faltering, but then shook his head to clear his thoughts and when he lifted his eyes he was smirking again. "I am as surprised as anyone to realise that my anguish for a lost love did in turn make a demon that can itself feel love. A true tragedy. That he should adore you, but be incapable of anything except dark deeds and harm. His own nature prevents him from anything else. You lament your situation, but you should pity him too, for his curse. He did not choose this path. In that regard he is perhaps innocent. More innocent certainly than you." He gave a provoking smirk.

"He deserves no pity," Rukawa snarled right back.

Fujima shrugged, though his eyes were alight with a hot green malice.

He began to walk a slow circle around Rukawa, staring as if examining him from all sides. Dragging his eyes over his shape, his body, and the resolve in his expression as if weighing him up. And with every step his tattered wings dragged along the ground with a heavy grating sound.

"Child," he said finally. "If you want to survive - if you have any sense at all -" he stopped and planted his feet, fixing his broken eyes to meet Rukawa's cold glare, "you should surrender yourself to Sakuragi."

Mitsui's eyes narrowed dangerously and he let out a low hiss of breath. Rukawa was surprised for barely a moment before he folded his arms, his expression hardening into a bored blankness.

Fujima stepped forward. "I only speak the truth. You are all so, _so_ young. You don't yet understand what it means to be without purpose, without reason." He turned his attention back to Rukawa. "Don't you see? It is your hate that defines you. That makes you what you are. That keeps you alive. Suppose you kill Sakuragi, what then? Suppose the mortal boy survives, he loves you, he stays beside you all the years of his life - what then? In a thousand years, in ten thousand years, I tell you, you will _burn_ to feel just a fraction of what you feel right now. The revenge you desire. The passion you hold. You will look back and you will want it so badly... so _badly_... you would do anything to feel alive again. You will ache for this rivalry you once had. You would do anything, even throw your body into the hands of a monster, just so you can feel something. _Anything_."

He took up a pacing walk around the clearing, his eyes darting among the trees, weaving his hands and slim arms through the air in graceful motions to punctuate his words, speaking at large to the world. "Love is the foundation of our existence, our survival, our sustenance," he announced. "We all need it. We all live for it. Hunger for it." His eyes fixed on Rukawa. "Your brothers love one another. But what about you? Who is there to love a broken doll like you?" He gave a hopeless shrug. "The love you share with the mortal boy... it cannot last. You know that."

He paused by a clump of dark green leaves, different from the lighter shade of the grass around them. Stepping into them very precisely, he began to grind them down with his heel.

"You face a uniquely painful destiny," he continued as the leaves smeared to mush beneath his sandal. "So be wary of your brothers' counsel. Though they care for you, they face not the future that you do. They won't understand the choices set before you..." he gave a twisted smile as he inspected the destroyed plant. "But I do."

Turning abruptly away from the trees he stepped towards Rukawa, his twin wings dragging against the ground with a sound like snakes.

He lifted his arms as if in peace, as if offering an embrace. "You and I are alike," he said, more softly, drawing close. When Rukawa did not back away, he set his hand gently on Rukawa's shoulder. Rukawa's eyes followed him with suspicious mistrust.

"I am your future. I _know_. I know exactly how it feels." As he walked behind Rukawa he trailed his hand lightly over his shoulders admiringly. "The mortal cannot be with you forever," he repeated. "Just as my wife could not remain beside me. We are cursed to be without them. You will suffer without his love, thirsty in a drought. Yet if we cannot have love then you and I must sustain ourselves with the next best thing..." a deranged smile wandered over his lips. _"...hate_."

Rukawa still did not react, only turning his head to watch Fujima appear on his other side, his hand now on Rukawa's other shoulder.

"Sakuragi is in love with you," he announced unexpectedly. "Deeply. Powerfully. Through millennia. Though you hate him, you also need to understand that he _is_ you. Your existence is bound to him in a thousand ways. And later, when everything else is gone and everything around you is black, then you will seek him. You will hurt yourself upon him. You will beg for the chance to feel him tear at you. To summon up your hate and feed it. Because you will _have - nothing - else_."

Fujima stepped in closer, his long, delicate fingers reaching up to comb gently through Rukawa's thick hair, admiring the shine, pressing closer to his side like a vine in whose tendrils Rukawa had become entangled.

"Be wary of fulfilling your dreams, innocent one," Fujima whispered, his body hot against Rukawa's arm, his voice dripping like honey into his ear. "For what lies beyond may be nothing but black space and despair."

He let out a delicate sigh, his face so close that Rukawa could feel it as warm breath upon his cheek.

"You have a choice. Kill Sakuragi, and live on to stare blindly into the emptiness of despair. Or let him live, and one day when your lover is long dead and you have truly lost your mind to the grief, remember my words when you crawl into Sakuragi's bed and beg him to ruin you."

His fingers ran lightly over Rukawa's cheek. "You stand before me full of fire and the need to fight, to war, to extract your revenge. I understand, I do. Yet I stand before you with the experience of ages. I know the pain. The nothingness. Beautiful one, if you are wise, you will listen."

He leaned in and set his lips against Rukawa's cheek in a chaste kiss of sweetness.

Rukawa's eyes turned away from Fujima's smouldering green gaze and looked instead towards Mitsui and Kogure to consider their reactions. They both wore looks of unhappy uncertainty. Putting weight into Fujima's words. His reason. His wisdom. His sweet-tongued promises like a lure. Rukawa took in their expressions in annoyance for a moment, before sighing and turning back to Fujima.

"You are wrong about something," he replied simply, dragging _Akira_ from her sheath. The motion of his extending arm pushed Fujima away until he was at length. _Akira_ lifted until she pointed towards Fujima's throat. Rukawa glared at him down the length of the blade. "I am _nothing_ like you," he hissed.

There was a moment of silence. Then Fujima tilted his head in amusement and let out a peal of laughter that rang loudly in the clearing. His broken wings stretched and weaved with the motion of his laughter, rippling worthless through the air, each ragged hole whistling softly as if to join in with his amusement. Heedless of the blade that threatened him.

Rukawa's expression deepened into a scowl.

"What do you _want_ , Fujima?" Kogure demanded in annoyance, dislike written clearly across his face.

Fujima's laughter faded into a low chuckle. "What do we all want?" he responded with a smug smile. He eyed the sword that tickled his neck. "To die," he announced.

He looked meaningfully between Mitsui and Rukawa. "There is no sword in the demon world that can cut my soul from this accursed flesh," he explained, his fingers reaching out to slide lovingly along the cold length of _Akira,_ the light turning his pale fingers a ghostly blue. "But _you_ \- you who carry the angelic swords of legend - the three apprentices themselves, immortal slayers of demons..." he tipped his chin up and pulled the collar of his kimono down to bare his neck to Rukawa's blade enticingly, "...I beg you. Cut my throat, and free me from this pain."

Silence met this strange demand. After a moment, Rukawa lowered his sword slowly. It was hard to know if Fujima was serious or not. Whether this was some trick.

"Why should we do that?" Mitsui demanded derisively.

"Because of what I can teach you," Fujima replied.

"And what might that be?"

Fujima released his clothes and straightened his head. But while he looked at them all, it was to Rukawa alone that he spoke. "Did you ever wonder if there was a way for a mortal to live forever?"

Rukawa stiffened where he stood.

 _What_?

A strange lurch of coldness seized up his temples. Something huge twisted around his stomach.

But before he could say anything, Mitsui interrupted by spitting angrily at the floor. "No," he snarled. "Because it's impossible."

Rukawa swallowed around the sudden tightness in his throat. Realistically he knew Mitsui was right. But still... he... needed to... ask.

"What-" Rukawa began.

"No! Don't fucking listen to him," Mitsui rounded on Rukawa furiously. "He's _poison_. Everything he says is a lie. If it was possible, then why is his so-called wife not beside him? Why is he begging to die on your sword? Because he _failed_! If it were ever possible - which it fucking is _not_ \- _he_ certainly doesn't know how."

Fujima seemed to shrink back a little, his shoulders rounding as if he had been struck. As if Mitsui had put a fist right into his heart.

"Yes I failed," he agreed, his voice unexpectedly small. "But there is no one who knows more about the mortal soul than I. I have spent centuries searching for answers. Searching for... her. For me it is too late. It is impossible. But perhaps not for you. Perhaps." He lifted his eyes imploringly to Rukawa. "Will you not hear me out?"

Mitsui tried to take a menacing step towards him, only to stumble on his injured leg. "I'll cut out your tongue," he hissed, "before I let you torture Kaede with your _bullshit_."

Kogure pulled anxiously at his arm. "Hisashi- you have to let Kaede decide."

"Fuck that I don't-! This snake is no friend to us. He's only here to hurt Kaede. He's Sakuragi's creature without a fucking doubt-"

"Speak," Rukawa's voice cut through Mitsui's protest, addressing Fujima, lifting a hand to warn Mitsui back. "And if your words have any worth, then I'll give you the death you seek."

"You're walking right into his trap," Mitsui spluttered in outrage. "It's impossible. You know it's impossible! It's a false hope. It will only drive you mad."

Rukawa glared at him and Mitsui threw up his hands in anger, perhaps recognising the futility in arguing with Rukawa when he was determined. "Fuck! _Fuck_!"

Kogure patted Mitsui's arm soothingly as he ground his teeth but nevertheless did not interrupt.

Fujima sent Mitsui a sweet smile, and began to explain. He lifted two hands as if cupping them around an invisible ball. "The soul," he said, "is not extinguished by death. Death is a function of the body. Memories, skills, feelings, those things reside in the brain, in the muscles. They die with the flesh..." he mimed the action of discarding physical remnants from his hand. "But the soul itself is something more. It rebirths in cycle after cycle. Reappearing, in another place, another time, another body, another face, perhaps another gender. There is endless literature on the subject. Mortal cultures across the world have documented the phenomenon. Past lives. Reincarnated souls."

Mitsui scoffed coldly. "That hardly constitutes living forever. A reborn soul would be a completely different person."

"In some ways, perhaps," Fujima admitted, "but not entirely." He sighed. "I confess I do not have all the answers. I have searched through the eons to find her, but it has proved impossible. She might walk right by me and I would not be able to recognise her. I am now quite sure I will not be able to find her again. Even though I know she must be out there, somewhere, still I... I know that I have to accept that I have, as you say, failed."

Rukawa folded his arms, appeared unimpressed, and said nothing.

Fujima gestured vaguely in frustration. "Despite all my efforts I am still missing not only one, but two pieces of this puzzle. Firstly, a way to find her again, to recognise her. Secondly, a way to restore the recollections of a previous life to her. And in both these respects, you have the advantage over me."

"I don't see how," Rukawa retorted coldly, sounding highly skeptical.

"Do you not?" Fujima lifted one cynical eyebrow. "I am linked to my love through mortal vows of marriage. But you... your connection runs much deeper, does it not? Are you not watcher and slayer? Do you not share fragments of soul? Aren't your lives meshed together through the rites? Do you not have a physical manifestation of your bond, right there, at your side?"

Startled, Rukawa's hand drifted quickly to _Akira_ , his fingers closing around the hilt, feeling the familiar cold, bringing the light.

Fujima observed his action and looked smug. "The sword was forged for you alone. And to you alone it reacts. It drinks of your life and glows at your touch. Were I to hold it, or Rameel, or even Uriel, it would not react. It would be as ordinary steel. Is that not so? Yet there is one," he held up a finger, "single," he smirked, "exception."

Rukawa blinked down at the sword in confusion. The sword responded only to his hand, that was true. Or so he had thought.

Until he had seen for himself when Akira had held the sword that night in the temple garden. It had even surprised him at the time to see how the blade had glowed at Akira's touch. And yet he had not given it much thought since then. The sword was named for Akira so perhaps it was not that strange. Yet as for the reason why... could it really be some evidence of two souls truly... meshed? Was it a connection that would persist throughout time? Persist even beyond death? He frowned uncertainly.

"How did you do it, by the way?" Fujima pressed him with an amused smile, interrupting his thoughts. "How did you convince the Council to give a dangerous exile like you the power of the watchers?"

"I-" Rukawa began, feeling slightly overwhelmed. But he did not need to continue. Fujima already knew the answer. His eyes swung straight to Kogure.

"It was the _Second_ for whom the sword was intended, was it not? Who took the vows on your behalf. But when he mixed mortal blood with cherubine, it was not his but yours that he submitted for the rite." He smirked when he saw that all three of them were looking at him in surprise. He waved a hand dismissively. "That much is not hard to deduce. You are no true watcher. You took no vows. You are a mockery of their great legacy. And yet the sword functions, and the bond is real. That much is true." He gestured again towards Rukawa and the sword. "And, is this not proof of your second advantage? Do you not have an ally who can enquire on your behalf, and relay to you all the magicks and knowledge of the heavens stretching back through the ages? Had I access to such knowledge, who knows how much further I could have gone..." he sighed and shook his head regretfully. "Regardless, so long as the Second resists the temptation of the fall, you are likely to discover such magicks that would make the preservation and restoration of mortal memories not only a possibility but a triviality." He lifted one eyebrow in question. "Does the idea not excite you?"

The answer, of course, was yes. Rukawa's blood was already prickling at the possibilities. Though doubtless there were barriers still to overcome, it did seem that Fujima's ideas were feasible. And if there really were a possibility that he could keep Sendoh beside him - perhaps forever - wouldn't he pursue it with everything he had? It would be a miracle beyond hoping.

But even so, the chance of utilising Fujima's theories remained remote and unfathomable. Because there was no time. Perhaps no chance. And the immediate hurdle facing them was more menacing still.

So Rukawa did not find it difficult to conceal his excitement, because the reality was still there, hard and horrible. The barrier. The gate. Sakuragi's presence. And Sendoh's screams that had fallen ominously silent.

"None of this is relevant to me," Rukawa replied slowly, "while Hanamichi bleeds his life away as we speak. I have not time to discuss long forgotten spells. I cannot even defend him from the death that stalks him this day. This minute!"

Fujima shrugged carelessly. "Then go and save him," he retorted. "If such a fundamental thing is already beyond you, _watcher_ , I don't see what business you have speaking to me."

"I cannot pass the barrier," Rukawa hissed in frustration.

Fujima only blinked at him slowly in surprise. "Are you so weak?" He drew closer with languid steps and pushed his arm demonstratively through the barrier. "No more resistance than water."

Rukawa mirrored him, yet his hand was blocked soundly by the invisible wall of energy as before.

Fujima snorted in disdain. "Child. If this is the sum of your strength, I can't imagine how you intend to stand against Sakuragi," he gave a contemptuous roll of his eyes. "Well, it is of no consequence to me should you succeed or fail." With a motion of his arm he eradicated a section of the barrier as if it were mere fog to be wiped away. "It won't remain open for long, but this small thing I can do for you. Now, have I finally earned my payment? We had a deal, I recall."

Rukawa stared at the gap in the barrier that Fujima had made. He was momentarily torn between his desire to dart through it at once, and some ugly half-held wish that it was still closed and the weight of this moment was not resting on his shoulders.

His hand drifted to _Akira_ again, his eyes turning to Fujima beside him.

But he hesitated.

He had promised him death, that was true. It should not have been hard. He had slaughtered more demons than he could possibly count. Yet this felt... different.

There was no sense. Nothing driving him to act. No pain or compulsion or mindless bloodlust. The things on which he relied. Things he'd always used to allow himself to overcome his own instincts were absent. This wasn't merely surrendering to a blind rage. This was a conscious choice. He could not simply close his eyes and throw fate to the winds, letting his sword fly and death land wherever it would, disengaging himself from the process. He would need to move that sword, each and every inch, with determination and purpose. Take on the responsibility of killing. Of ending life. But this wouldn't be _slaying -_ an easily justifiable culling of monsters. This would be something else.

 _Murder_.

He had promised Fujima death but... it seemed he hadn't quite realised what it would cost him until this moment. The reality of what he would have to do made him pause.

Fujima saw him hesitate, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. "You gave me your word. Are you weak and a liar too?"

Rukawa's grip on _Akira_ tightened. "No, I-" He didn't know what to say, though. Didn't know if he could go through with it. Didn't know at all. "I-"

"I'll do it," Mitsui's voice interrupted him.

Rukawa blinked as Mitsui drew _Vengeance_ with a decisive ring of steel. Their eyes met, and Rukawa knew at once that Mitsui understood. That he knew why Rukawa had hesitated. How it would be an evil, wicked thing. That if they went through with a sin like this, it would blacken them forever.

"You should save your strength for Sakuragi," Mitsui said in a low, quiet voice that filled Rukawa with a strange horror.

"No-" he tried to protest. This was his responsibility. He had made the deal with Fujima, and the weight of the burden ought to fall on him. He could not ask Mitsui to do this on his behalf. He couldn't.

But Mitsui ignored him.

"Come closer, stuprator," he addressed Fujima irritably. "I cannot walk on this leg."

Perhaps realising that Mitsui's resolve was firmer than Rukawa's protest against it, Fujima did as he was told. He stepped with grace across the grass. He was beautiful, Rukawa realised then. Though he seemed to have been worn down to his bones, he was so beautiful.

He lowered himself with dignity to his knees in front of Mitsui. Rukawa almost couldn't bear to watch yet he couldn't seem to drag his eyes away.

Fujima let out a quiet sigh. He settled his hands in gentle fists upon his thighs, relaxing his shoulders. Then, turning his eyes towards Rukawa, he said, "Don't let that mortal die, or this might be you one day, begging your brother to take your life."

Rukawa couldn't seem to speak.

"You ready?" Mitsui wanted to know.

"Mmm," Fujima gave a soft hum. He lifted his chin, offering his neck.

Mitsui carefully touched Vengeance's edge to the skin of his throat. The cold steel made Fujima shiver.

"Any last words?"

Fujima fixed one eye on Mitsui. "I always wanted to die with a cock in my mouth," he requested hopefully.

"Don't fucking push it."

Fujima gave a small shrug and closed his eyes, his face to the sky. "Toru," he said quietly to the clouds. "Forgive me." He gave a weak smile.

He didn't move or flinch as Mitsui drew Vengeance back, and then swung the sword with all his strength.

Right up until the moment Fujima died, Rukawa remained half convinced that it was a trick. That Fujima had some plan to deceive them. That he would leap back, draw a weapon, ambush them in some way.

Doubtless Fujima heard the sound of the sword split the air as it swung towards him. Probably he had speed enough to move away had he wished. Dodge the swing, save himself. But he did not. Though he didn't seem to have bravery of a fighting sort, Rukawa thought afterwards, he died well. Without fear. Peaceful.

There was no blood, though. The only substance that flowed from Fujima's neck was ash. His body disintegrated almost at once, collapsing into dust that scattered like powder across the ground.

There was silence for a long time as the three of them stared at the sight of the breeze picking its way through the dust.

"Some people," Kogure observed quietly, "live too long."

No one else knew what to say.

Rukawa was the first to turn away. He fixed his attention back on the gap in the barrier that Fujima had created as his last act. The door beyond which he did not dare guess what fate he would meet. But he would go. Of course he would go. He adjusted his grip on _Akira_ silently.

And yet, even as he stepped up to it he couldn't resist turning his head to ask, "Hisashi, would you... ever do that for me?"

Mitsui hadn't moved from where he stood. His face was a little pale, staring down at the remaining dust. He lifted his eyes dazedly. "You?" he asked, staring blankly at Rukawa. "You would never ask this of me."

Rukawa thought about that silently for a moment. He lowered his eyes. "I..."

He frowned, hesitated, wanting to say more but not knowing how. Wondering if this might be the last time he'd see them, not wanting to get caught up in painful goodbyes. He shook his head. "Thank you," he said with finality. Then, without waiting for a reply, he turned and stepped through the gap, leaving them there, and didn't look back.

They didn't try to stop him.

Once Rukawa had vanished into the trees and out of sight, Mitsui turned back to Kogure.

Kogure was gazing up at him anxiously. "Are you all right?"

Mitsui ignored the question. "Do you think Kaede can win?" he demanded, stumbling a little as he moved to sit back down on the rock beside Kogure. His hands were shaking.

"I hope so."

Mitsui's face darkened. "We have failed hundreds of times before," he pointed out. "Why should this time be any different?"

"Well," Kogure frowned. "This time he is fighting for something more than just revenge. He loves that boy, you know."

Mitsui dropped his chin to his chest tiredly. "Will that really make any difference?" he queried. "I'm afraid that mortal might not be his strength, but his undoing."

Kogure squeezed his eyes closed tightly. "It must," he whispered, but it sounded more like a prayer than a fact. "It must."

* * *

Sendoh came around very slowly, like he was dragging himself out of the dark. He was heady and woozy, not fully awakened from his unconsciousness. His thoughts were disjointed and meandering like a dream. He wasn't fully there. Wasn't anywhere.

And yet the pain persisted, and he knew. _It's not finished. This is not over._

He couldn't imagine how it could possibly hurt more than it did. And yet, he was sure, Sakuragi would succeed. Sakuragi would know how to twist every possible pain out of him. Push him right against the edge of the abyss. Send him back into darkness.

It didn't seem worth praying to a god. For him, there was only Kaede. He knew there was only Kaede. Yet even trying to conjure his face at that moment seemed too hard.

"You look so beautiful like this," he heard Sakuragi tell him, almost tenderly. "You have no idea how hard you are making me." A thumb that Sendoh had not noticed passed his slack lips, pushing into his mouth, and Sendoh did not have the awareness to resist. "You can't imagine how much I want to see these pretty lips screaming around my cock," Sakuragi purred at him.

Sendoh may have shuddered, some deep-held revulsion driven perhaps by the sense he could no longer feel, yet no more than that. He could do nothing more taxing than struggle to focus his eyes. His brain didn't seem capable of processing his situation any more.

 _Surrender._

He relaxed against his binds, letting the pain fill him with a strange calmness. The helplessness settled over him like a blanket of comfort. Whatever would happen to him, he couldn't stop it. Whatever Sakuragi chose to do made no difference to him now. He would accept it. He had no choice.

 _Just give up._

He heard Sakuragi's snort of contempt. "Where is all your _pride_?" he mocked him. "Open your mouth."

Sendoh reacted subconsciously to the command. His bruised jaw slackening obediently to accept Sakuragi's punishment.

Sakuragi tutted again in disappointment.

"Do you want to suck my cock so badly? What will Kaede say when he sees you like this? Whipped and obedient"

 _Kaede?_

Confusion rolled over him, but he didn't visibly react. It was beyond him.

 _Kaede?_

For a moment, concern gripped him.

What would Kaede think?

Was that... important? Did it matter? He struggled. Wasn't there something-? Something he was supposed... to do? Was he failing? Was he failing Kaede like this? Surrendering like this? What would Kaede think? Did it matter? Did it matter-? He couldn't remember. What had he promised? What- what was he supposed- to do?

"Do you think he would beg to take your place right now?" Sakuragi queried lightly. "He makes much better sport than you do. He's much less obedient. Much more... satisfying. Would you like that? Would you like him to be here instead of you?"

Sendoh tried to recall his face. Tried to remember. Things they'd said. That they'd done. Promised. The trust. How much love Sendoh had for him.

 _I would die_ , he tried recall the depth of his feelings. _I would die for him._

But though he could recall the words, underneath there was nothing but confusion. Disjointed thoughts. Something lost. The more he searched, the more he realised that he could summon up nothing but the terror that had sunk into every facet of his mind.

 _Would I want him... to take my place...?_

His breath hiccuped in his throat.

 _I..._

 _I don't know..._

"Do you want to see me make him scream? Watch me nail him to the wall?"

 _I... I... I don't know._

The uneasy feeling that he'd got something wrong, that he ought to do something, say something, spun just beyond his reach. The sense again that he was failing Kaede. But... he didn't know... what he was supposed to do. He had promised him – something? But what? What-?

"You're pathetic," Sakuragi sneered. "Is this the extent of your feelings?"

He gulped uncertainly, the saliva torching his throat like acid. He didn't understand what was going on. Couldn't quite catch it.

He would do anything, he thought in horror, to end this pain.

But would he sacrifice Kaede?

He wasn't sure any more. He could only groan, and hurt, and wait. Nothing else.

He closed his eyes and let his mind spiral away into silence. Nevermind. Nevermind it. Just let go.

A breeze blew gently through Sendoh's hair.

He noticed it, because nothing else moved here within Sakuragi's influence. No birds sung. No insects or animals or rustling fauna. The place was dead except for him and Sakuragi and now this unexpected breeze. It ruffled his clothes, making him cold, and pulling his mind back a little - just a little - from the abyss.

Sakuragi also paused, and looked round as if noticing it as well.

Through the swelter of his pain, Sendoh struggled to focus his eyes on anything, struggled to bring his mind around to this place, his situation. It was so, so hard to think. To concentrate. And yet there was something... strange. Sakuragi was staring at it as well.

Some magic, some illusion, almost invisible in the grass. A huge circle on the ground had appeared, encompassing the whole house, running through the grass, just at the tree line. It extended around, beyond where Sendoh could see. It was not a line of any substance. It appeared only as a discernable difference between the grass on one side and the other, though Sendoh would never have been able to articulate what the difference was. Yet he could see it as clearly as if it had been drawn in black ink. It made the hair on his neck stand up.

What-?

Then, unexpectedly, the circle shifted. It jerked round in a nauseating lurch, the inner part and the outer parts of the world seeming to separate for a moment, moving in different directions. The sensation of turning was so strong Sendoh felt his stomach move, and yet when he squinted at the scene, nothing appeared to have changed. The trees were still lined up in the same way. The motion had occurred and yet hadn't occurred at all.

Immediately a second lurch spun them another few degrees, though again they did not move at all. It was the strangest of sensations. But Sendoh finally saw the circle for what it was: a wheel. There were near-invisible spokes radiating from the centre somewhere under his feet. Just a suggestion of lines in the way of the shadows, the slant of the sun. The circumference was not smooth but ridged like a cog or the wheel of a ship.

The strangeness of the phenomenon was such that his wandering mind took some focus, turning his attention upon it, hauling itself anxiously out of the black holes it had been buried in.

He would have assumed he was imagining it or simply going mad except that Sakuragi was bristling with curiosity, watching the same phenomenon.

The wheel picked up a little more pace, still spinning in jerking lurches and yet rotating a little further, a little smoother, each time. It felt as if the floor under their feet were moving. The illusion of turning was incredibly powerful.

The motion of the wheel seemed to power the wind that also increased in strength as it began to turn faster and faster.

Then, quietly, and quite unexpectedly, into the middle of the strangeness, Kaede stepped out of the trees.

The sword in his hand was bare, glowing brightly, no longer a gentle blue but almost white hot. Around the blade, twisting and turning in conflicting directions, similar insubstantial wheels made of light and air were spinning. Unwinding. Efficient like the cogs and gears of some machine.

His black wings were already unfurled, arched behind him like twin sails. Tensed to resist the movement of the wind.

He did not look at Sendoh. In fact he didn't even seem aware that they were there, keeping his eyes lowered and fixed upon the floor, distracted.

He did not seem very much. Not one on whom to pin all your hopes. Smaller than Mitsui. Slower than Kogure. Less confident than Sakuragi who was smiling now in welcome.

Sendoh felt an awful fear creeping over him. He eyed the sword in Kaede's hand. Would it be enough? How could it possibly be enough? Would anything ever be enough to stop Sakuragi?

Sakuragi tilted his head in interest, his curious eyes taking in Kaede's strange posture, the odd action of the wheels twisting around the sword in his hand.

"I'm not finished yet," he chided him lightly. "How did you cross the barrier?"

 _A barrier_. Sendoh registered the word distantly. He had not doubted that Kaede would be trying to reach him, and yet suddenly he realised he had feared being abandoned just the same.

"Someone betrayed you," Kaede answered without looking up.

This brought Sakuragi up short. "No one would dare," he asserted in surprise. "Who?"

"The one they call Semyaza the Debaucher, Bane of Mortals."

Sakuragi looked, if anything, more astonished. " _Fujima_? Impossible."

Kaede did not respond.

He finally lifted his eyes to take in the sight of Sakuragi standing there, and Sendoh just behind. His expression remained carefully schooled, giving away nothing of his thoughts.

But his _eyes_.

Sendoh could only stare. He had never seen anything like Kaede's eyes at that moment.

His beautiful blue irises were spinning slowly, outlined with spokes. Wheels. Gradually picking up speed. Strange and otherworldly.

A shudder passed through Sendoh in some subconscious response to what he saw. His throat tightened. It looked so strange, so unnatural. For the first time Sendoh began to truly understand that his lover was not human. Was not even close.

Rukawa hesitated for a fraction of a second. The only indication that the sight of Akira hanging there, limp and broken, registered with him. Moved something in him.

Sendoh knew what he must look like, hanging there by his wrists, slumped and weak, his lips slack, his face bruised, his mind ticking with terrible limping slowness. He didn't want to be this helpless. This pathetic. Didn't want Kaede to see him like this.

 _Did I fail him?_

 _I feel... I feel so much like I... failed._

The shame was so consuming he dropped his head. Could not meet those terrifying eyes.

 _Don't... don't look at me..._

 _I don't want you to see me... like this._

 _Don't-_

But when Kaede spoke, his voice was unaffected. "Akira," he asked. "Are you alive?"

For a moment Sendoh could not react. Could not understand the question. Didn't even know the answer.

 _Alive? Am I alive?_

He anxiously licked his dry lips. A shuddering moan passed his mouth as he struggled to lift his eyes.

 _Am I alive?_

"...y-yes..." he managed to gasp.

Kaede closed his eyes for a moment, as if letting the word drift over him.

"That's all I need," he said finally. "Thank you."

Sendoh swallowed anxiously. His eyes drifted down to Kaede's sword which seemed to be glowing brighter by the moment.

Was this really all that he'd needed to do? To live? To remain alive? Certainly he did not feel as if he had anything left in him. What more could he do except force himself to breath. Force his heart to beat. Force his consciousness to hang on.

Perhaps he had fulfilled his role, but was this victory? He felt nervous. No, they were a long way from victory. Perhaps this was all he could do for Kaede. Perhaps his story had ended here. But even so, the end was still so, so far.

All he could do now was trust Kaede, lean on Kaede's strength, and watch. He didn't like it. But the choice had never been his to make.

Sakuragi's eyes were moving over the ground, the wheels that spun with unrelenting vigour. Winding something in, or letting something out. The wind had risen further into a blast, a gale. The trees were leaning with it now, their leaves jangling against one another. Dust swirled across the ground. The wounded house itself gave an ominous groan.

" _Kaede_ ," Sakuragi said softly. Every cadence in his voice seemed to strain into the word. But his eyes were dark and cruel and his mouth drawn into a familiar smirk.

A second, smaller wheel materialised on the ground within the first. A third soon followed. A wheel began to twist under Sendoh's knees. Sendoh looked around. The whole place was turning, moving in different directions, as if reality were unwinding and the wheels moved in sync like gears - the small ones turning faster and the larger ones more slowly like the aching motion of a clock. And in the middle of it all, Rukawa was still and quiet. And the sword in his hand grew brighter and brighter.

Sakuragi hissed in annoyance at the wind that had become intense upon his face. "How much is there?" he asked, looking at the sword. "How much power have you stored in that blade?"

Rukawa gave a vague shrug.

Sakuragi stepped quickly back as another wheel abruptly appeared under his foot, staring at it in suspicion as if it might harm him.

Rukawa closed his eyes slowly, breathing, his clothes flapping furiously in the wind.

 _It's this strong?_ Even Sendoh was surprised. _It's only been a few weeks,_ he thought, counting back. _When the tavern burnt down. He appeared and protected me. Fourteen, fifteen, no, it's been just sixteen days._

A further wheel shimmered into existence a little further down the veranda. It was small and spun furiously, spluttering light and sparks wildly. The wind did not relent.

Sakuragi's eyes had begun to shine with excitement. "What are you going to do with it all?" he demanded eagerly. He did not seem to be afraid.

Rukawa ignored him.

Sakuragi stepped forward curiously. "As much as I want to see it," he said. "I doubt you can risk hitting me with all of it at once. What if I deflect it? Block it? What if you miss? Will you risk everything on one all-or-nothing shot?"

"No," Rukawa answered softly, calm in the centre of the maelstrom. "Too much risk."

"Well then?" Sakuragi pressed him.

Rukawa did not reply at once. Sakuragi, Sendoh noticed, was standing with his wings fully outstretched in a show of strength, as if the ferocious wind had no effect on him at all. And yet despite his bravado, the muscles in his back and legs were clenched hard against the force of the wind. The great expanse of his wings ripped and snapped loudly like a sail in a storm.

"I don't need to attack you directly," Rukawa explained simply. "I will make myself stronger instead."

Sakuragi snorted. "Matter is the most concentrated form of energy." He waved a hand dismissively. "That sword could never hold power enough to make you something you are not."

Sendoh saw the smallest hint of a smile at the corner of Kaede's lips. And in that moment he knew. He knew exactly what Rukawa was going to do with all that power.

His felt as if the floor had fallen out beneath him.

"You are right," Rukawa acknowledged, "I cannot become something am not. But perhaps I can break the curse that makes me something other than what I am."

Sakuragi stiffened as he came to the same realisation that Sendoh had. "Oh..." he breathed low, an intense look appearing on his face. A predator. A hunter. A wolf. "... _Kaede_..."

Something clenched hard in Sendoh's gut.

All at once he felt strongly that Rukawa should not do this thing. But he could not stop him. He could not do anything at all.

"...I have waited... so long..." Sakuragi muttered, licking his lips in anticipation, his eyes sharpened to spears.

"Don't..." Sendoh tried to say, but his voice could not be heard over the wind and the snap of Sakuragi's wings in the blast.

Besides, the magic was already working. Kaede's eyes slowly opened even as the wind concentrated around him, tightening its hold, turning the air into a wild thrashing shield.

He stared ahead blankly as the power moved from the sword, snaking up his arm, changing as it went. The black pupils in his spinning eyes vanished entirely, absorbed into themselves. Instead, the blue spread into a single unbroken disc, a terrible inhuman look that sealed his expression.

Around him, the wheels slowed. Some cracked and broke and disintegrated. A few still spun unsteadily on.

At his back, his black wings seemed to warp, contracting, changing, turning themselves over and inside out, twisting in the wind, insubstantial as streamers. Sendoh saw feathers that were sharp like knives slide over one another slowly, aligning precisely into a complex weave. They scattered the light in a million ways so that they first seemed white and then seemed black. Expanding, filling, those huge transforming wings arched upwards like a yawn. Moving elegant, sharp and deadly in the wind.

But there was no comfort in him. Though he changed, though the light ran over him in strange rivers, all silver steel and brilliant white, he did not become soft. He did not resemble Kogure who was so warm and gentle and sweet.

No.

Dark, Fallen, Broken. This Angel was made of fire and blackness, and in his eyes was the merciless orbit of the stars. Pure and blind. Justice, cold like marble.

Not a creature of love, but one of war.

He was terrifying.

Sendoh could only stare in astonishment and fear.

"Warrior," Sakuragi whispered in disbelief, the awe in his voice echoing Sendoh's uncertain feelings. "Dark angel," he breathed, "Abbadon come anew. My love…" He took two enchanted steps forward, the fingers of his right hand twitching slightly at his side. He lifted it, holding out his hand for Kaede to take.

"I... want you," he whispered.

Rukawa only observed him coldly, stretching his wings silently, testing them, feeling them. "Be at my side," Sakuragi continued. "Be my queen. Be my _god_." His tongue slid over his lips. "I'll give you the world. I'll worship you. Only, rule with me. Kaede. Please."

Kaede's ancient eyes slid slowly over him, considering, weighing, judging.

For a moment, Sendoh was uncertain what would happen next. But then, without any warning at all, they both moved at the same time. Faster than Sendoh could see. Sakuragi's wings cracked together like thunder as he and Rukawa covered the ground to the greatsword _Skipjack,_ where it stood in the ground between them, in the blink of an eye. They both seized hold of the handle at the same time.

Sakuragi let out a ferocious snarl and with one arm dragged the monstrous sword up, free of the ground, shaking Rukawa off the handle in firm denial.

Forced to relinquish his hold, Rukawa stepped back, but he was gone in the next moment, vanished from sight, too fast to follow.

Sakuragi spun around defensively, and was only just fast enough to block _Akira_ as it swung for the back of his neck. The two swords raked together in a screech of anguished metal.

The blast of air from Rukawa's wings slammed into Sendoh like a gale. A scattering of stray feathers drifted in the swirl of air, and Sendoh observed the way they sliced cleanly into the wooden veranda and stuck there.

"Kaede..?" he whispered, feeling dizzy and lost.

This divine being, with its empty eyes and whirring wings and terrible power - he didn't know it. Kaede had always been strong but this was something else. Fear crawled over his heart.

 _I don't know you. I don't recognise you. I can't feel you there at all. Is this... what you truly are?_

 _Kaede, I loved you._

 _Not for what you once were, but for what you are._

 _Are you still... there?_

 _What have you become?_

 _Kaede._

 _I always knew how far you were prepared to go to obtain your revenge. But I guess I never thought that I might lose you... like this._

Rukawa did not hear his thoughts. Did not register his pain. Did not even glance in his direction. Because he was far away. Upon another plane. Another place. And every straining facet of his existence was focused wholly upon Sakuragi.

Sendoh watched in silent dismay. Two enemies bound together by fate, so tightly entwined, linked by chains that Sendoh was suddenly no longer sure he could break.

Sakuragi smiled in delight. And the wheels of those empty eyes turned and turned and turned. Click. Click. Click.

* * *

"I'm sorry," Mitsui had said quietly.

Rukawa had not responded.

"You should have someone better than me here with you."

After a long minute, Rukawa had lifted his head. The chains on his bruised wrists had clinked quietly. No one had bothered to clean him. A sour scent had radiated from him, like blood and sex. Nothing about him had been right. Not the haunted look in his eyes, the sallow hollows of his cheeks, the state of his wrecked wings where sections had been torn out in untidy clumps. There had been marks and bruises down his neck and arms. Like teeth. Like bites. Hot mouths sucking hard against his pale flesh. His lip had been split wide. One eye had been blackened. Blood had run from the chaffing of the binds on his wrists, dripping from his fingertips.

He'd looked broken and angry.

They'd sat in a cell alone together. Two near-strangers linked by their shared condemnation. Dark, and every surface cold and hard. Within hours they would be led out and sacrificed to fate.

"No," Rukawa had replied tiredly. "I'm glad that it's you."

Mitsui had tilted his head uncertainly. "But I don't know how to help I- I don't even know what to say."

Rukawa had shook his head. "I don't want your _words_ ," he'd hissed, and his lip had curled slightly to reveal a glimpse of his teeth. A snarl that wound over his face though he had barely seemed aware of it. Animalistic.

Physcially he'd still borne resemblance to the creature he'd always been. The marks would fade. He would heal - outwardly. He would still be beautiful. He would still appear perfect and pure and whole. But something inside him had changed. It had dripped like venom from his voice when he'd added, "I want you to help me kill them all."

Mitsui had pressed his lips together tightly. For a moment he hadn't even been sure if Rukawa was referring to the demons, or to the council. He'd shook his head. "Is that really what you want?" he'd queried. "Revenge?" He'd looked down at his own hands, remembering how it had felt. Separating flesh from flesh. Extinguishing two hundred lives in a fit of rage. Making the hot black blood flow. Screaming his way into deadly sin of the sort none of their kind was ever meant to know. It had been strangely euphoric... but temporary. Looking back on what he'd done, he'd felt only empty and sick. "It doesn't really help much," he'd admitted, "killing them."

"That's what I want," Rukawa had replied shortly, and everything about him had been black.

"If we don't ally ourselves with the fallen," Mitsui had tried to reason, "we'll be alone. We won't last long. They'll hunt us down. We don't have a place to hide, or a means to fight."

He'd peered into Rukawa's face, trying to judge his thoughts, but it had been impossible. Once again he had been struck with the misery of knowing that the boy needed... something. Something more than just... him. Just Mitsui Hisashi, a self-styled brat whose primary talents were causing trouble, and riling up his betters. Rough and rude and reckless. He hadn't known how to comfort him. How to _save_ him. He'd felt worthless. Like a stupid kid facing a reality he couldn't deal with.

All he knew was how to swing a sword, and now he hadn't even have one of those.

He'd thought of Kiminobu then and the ache had opened up inside him once again. Kiminobu would have known what to say. How to comfort this boy. But they had been separated as soon as they'd returned and had not been permitted to see one another since. And so Kiminobu had not been there. His mate. His life.

Mitsui had sat in that cell and struggled to come to terms with the fact that he would never see him again.

It had been overwhelming. Like he'd been unmoored from everything. Nothing had hurt quite like that. Facing the unknown. Facing a world without Kiminobu in it. Never even having the chance to say goodbye.

He'd refused to let himself cry.

Behind him, his great wings had been lashed down with thick leather straps that had butted awkwardly against the stone wall with every movement. Weighing him down. Crushing him. He could remember feeling angry and exhausted and sad.

"And you," Rukawa had said.

Mitsui had been blinking rapidly at the inconvenient wetness in his eyes that the thought of Kogure had raised.

"I'm... sorry too," the boy had continued awkwardly. "It's because of me that you-".

Mitsui had shook his head. "I hate this whole fucking thing. I regret a whole lot of stuff. But I tell you, I won't _ever_ regret that." He'd rubbed his hands tiredly over his face, erasing the evidence of any tears, tugging half-heartedly at the chain that was strung between his wrists and the floor.

Rukawa had been silent.

A sudden bang of the cell doors had surprised them both and they'd sat up alarmed only to see a group of six Councillors arriving. Trailing along behind them had been a familiar nervous face.

Mitsui had been on his feet at once, though the chain around his neck and connected to the stone wall had not permitted him to reach the bars.

"Kiminobu?" he'd breathed in alarm, fear erupting within him. Had they changed their mind? Would Kiminobu be condemned together with them?

But the Sword Master had shaken his head meaningfully and gestured for Mitsui to be seated. Mitsui had remained standing anyway.

"We have a proposition," the Chair had stated, peering through the bars at them.

Mitsui's face had visibly tightened in mistrust.

"The circumstances being unfortunate as they are..." the Chair had continued, looking between them both, "...knowing that your intentions were not bad but merely misguided, it would be regrettable to see two talented swordsmen such as yourselves succumb to the darkness."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Mitsui had growled at him.

The Chair had given a commiserating smile. "I'm sure you realise that maintaining a positive relationship with us, the council, will serve you much better than allying yourselves with our enemies. Recall, for example, that you have by your own hands slain over two hundred of their number. What welcome do you expect to receive?"

Mitsui had frowned deeply. "You are exiling us," he'd snarled angrily. "What sort of _relationship_ are we supposed to maintain?"

"A rather exceptional one," the Chair had admitted. "The demons are... stronger than we anticipated."

"Is that so?" Mitsui had spat sarcastically.

"Though your fall is a sad necessity, we offer you a chance to serve the interests of the light, and help defend the heavens from the rising strength of the underrealm."

"And how do you expect us to do that?"

"For example, by rely of information. Or even by..." the Chair had hesitated before he said, "reducing the demon numbers... when required."

Mitsui had folded his arms in disbelief. "You want us to kill for you," he snarled at him in accusation. "After you condemn us for the same. How hypocritical can you possibly be you arrogant son of a-"

"Mitsui," the Sword Master had interrupted him quickly. "Please. Just... listen to the offer first."

Mitsui had given a snort of contempt. "I'm listening. What the hell do we get out of this?"

"We are prepared to make three concessions," the Chair had held up three fingers, "so you may fulfil your role. Firstly, we will arm you with swords of the finest quality."

Mitsui had lifted one eyebrow at that.

"Secondly we will allow you access to the twelve mansions. They are ancient sites protected against demons. Though they have been neglected since the wars I am confident you can make them habitable. No black-blood may cross their thresholds although be warned they will not provide defence against the fallen."

Mitsui's eyes had moved over to Rukawa who had only been staring at the floor blankly in silence.

Mitsui had had to reluctantly concede that the Council's offer would solve most of their problems. And hadn't Rukawa already said that he intended to pursue revenge? It had already seemed like they would have to accept whether Mitsui liked the idea of being a dog to the Council or not.

But when the Chair had explained the third concession, the tables hit their tipping point.

"Finally," he had said, "we will appoint an emissary who will liaise with you. The task will require frequent crossing of the gates, and a special permission will be granted for this purpose. It will be dangerous. Responsibility for their safety and protection whilst on the mortal plane will fall to you. Due to the very particular nature of the role, the sword master has insisted that it could only possibly be fulfilled by one-" here he had lifted his hand to indicate.

"Kiminobu?" Mitsui had breathed in a rush.

"That is correct."

Mitsui had stared at Kogure through the bars. Kogure had stared back at him, his eyes full of an eager, desperate love.

They hadn't needed to speak. They already knew the other's heart.

Mitsui's eyes had then moved slowly to the sword master. "Thank you," he'd whispered hoarsely.

The old man had shrugged.

"Do I take it that you accept our offer?" the Chair had pressed him. "In exchange we ask that your loyalty remains with the council. That you act as our arm upon the mortal plane. You might think of yourselves as..." he had considered for a moment, "...as _slayers_. Like the mortals of old."

Mitsui had taken one quick look at Rukawa, who hadn't given any indication one way or another. So Mitsui had decided to speak on his behalf. "Yes," he had said quickly. "Yes. We accept."

A sword. A base. The chance to see Kiminobu. When he thought about it there really wasn't anything else he could have possibly asked for.

Though Mitsui had seen the self-satisfied expression on the Chair's face - the way the old man had been congratulating himself for using Kogure as leverage, a clever little threat to keep Mitsui in line - he had had to accept there was little alternative.

The Chair had motioned then, and a crate had been brought forward. Packed inside, Mitsui had first seen the three swords resting upon shredded silk.

"Our forges have been silent for millennia," the Chair had admitted. "These are relics from the last war, but they are blessed steel and will serve you well. We grant them to you for your use and protection. You may name them as you will."

Mitsui had received the first sword silently, a little disbelieving that it had been passed to him, balanced in his hand, a weapon as powerful as this while he himself had still been chained to the wall as prisoner condemned.

The moment he touched the hilt, he had heard her. She had filled him up. Replacing despair with purpose. She had been all strength and power and anger.

" _Vengeance_ ," he had named her immediately, something dark in his eyes. A shadow of the slaughter he had laid upon Sakuragi's hall. An echoes of the thousands more who would fall to this blade.

" _Mercy_ ," Kogure had named the second blade soon after.

The final sword had been for Rukawa. He had received it with a dull look, staring at it as if he did not know or could not imagine what it was.

Then Rukawa had drawn her slowly from the sheath and stared down at the bright metal. She had been beautiful. Perfect. Pure. Though she was a weapon made to kill, she had looked so delicate, so lovely. He had taken a shuddering breath, the air twisting in his throat, tightening uncomfortably. A flicker of pain had moved over his face.

"Well?" the Chair had wanted to know.

Rukawa had turned her slowly, inspecting the steel, looking for a non-existent flaw. Something that would have revealed her ugly purpose. Killing. Bloody. Death and despair. Surely it should have been visible. Surely she ought to have been black to his eyes.

But she was not.

It hurt.

He had closed his eyes.

 _This is the sword,_ Rukawa had vowed then, _that will defeat Sakuragi Hanamichi._

He had gripped her tightly with all his strength, hearing her wake to him. The low, sorrowful sound of his soul running along her perfect edge.

"What name?" the Chair had demanded again, aspirated by Rukawa's silence.

Rukawa had glanced up through his fringe as if noticing for the first time that anyone was there.

" _Innocence_ ," he answered. "Her name is Innocence."

-tbc

* * *

ANs:

Give yourself 100 points if you guessed that Innocence was the sword of the Third.  
Give yourself 200 points if you knew I wasn't going to get to the end of this fic without giving Kaede his full-angel-form glory, lol

Next will be the final chapter, so how about making a prediction? ;) No prizes, it's just for fun!

a) **Fate**! Rukawa will defeat Sakuragi.  
b) **Unfinished business**! Mitsui will defeat Sakuragi.  
c) **The temptation of the fall**! Kogure will defeat Sakuragi.  
d) **Everybody's hero**! Sendoh will defeat Sakuragi  
e) **C** **op-out**! Sakuragi will defeat himself through some weird plot twist  
f) **Secret dirty desire**! No one will defeat Sakuragi. Sakuragi will defeat _you_!


	13. Chapter 12

**Lyn:** Thanks so much for your regular reviews they are keeping me going lol. There will be a little sneaky something about Fujima in the epilogue so please look forward to that. On with the showdown! It's a bit of a rollercoaster so fasten your seatbelt ;D

 **Kaede4ever:** Thanks so much for reading along I'm so glad you're excited for the ending. Haha I really love the hanaru in this fic I could write about it all day. Such a screwed up relationship. I recently realised that you could actually read this whole fic as a metaphor for a rape-victim's battle against depression/suicide. But maybe I'm thinking too deep about it? Anyway, do enjoy!

 **Demon  
** **Chapter 12**

 _I believe in you. I can show you that.  
_ _I can see right through all your empty lies.  
_ _I won't stay long in this world so wrong.  
_ _Say goodbye  
_ _As we dance with the devil tonight.  
_ (Breaking Benjamin - Dance with the Devil)

Footfalls. Sandals in the grass. Pacing right. Left. Circling. The world was silent all around.

Just waiting.

Concentration ran like a rod of tension, weighing down upon the air like a thunderstorm.

Grass slapped flat. The air as it cried out, parted, drawing silent as it closed once again.

It seemed so odd that in this dead and silent sphere, such intense chaos could be concentrated into such a small space. A ball of tension, straining under the pressure, crackling with short bursts of violence.

Above, Sendoh observed numbly, the winter sun had passed its low apex. It continued towards the west. He wondered which among them there and now would be privileged enough to see it set.

He tracked the clouds that moved aching through the paleness. Their slowness was something soothing to his eyes. For any time he tried to focus on the movement occurring directly before him, his mind and body reeled. He could not process this. It was beyond his understanding.

The dragon.

At war with the phoenix.

The pitch sword made a thrust and Sendoh felt the knife of wind it made in its movement like a blade against his chest. He wobbled a little where he knelt, frustrated by his immobility, yet knowing that even had he been free he could not have taken a single step. He could not even tell which of these two primal forces had the upper hand. He could not follow anything that was going on, except that any time they did break apart he saw that each was intensely focused. Contained in a world that was only them and their swords and one another and their winding history that stretched beyond Sendoh's comprehension.

Sakuragi slowly lifted his hand to wipe away the blood that dribbled from a cut on his cheek. He looked irritated. Rukawa flicked his sword absent-mindedly, sending a few black droplets to dash against the grass.

Then he raised _Akira_ again and for a short moment, paused.

Then he was gone.

Sakuragi went left, anticipating somehow the path that _Akira_ was making, deflecting the attack that came at him like lightning. He went up and Rukawa went under, the whirl of feathered wings sending a blast of dust and dry grass up from the floor. The swords crashed into one another once twice three four five times in the split second of their passing. And then Sakuragi had retreated to the further side of the grass, and Rukawa was crouched there in the dust, a tiger waiting to pounce, adjusting _Akira_ with one efficient snap of his wrist. His empty eyes remained fixed on the demon before him.

Sakuragi stretched out his shoulders and scowled.

"You're too dependent on your speed," he said provokingly. "You won't beat me."

Rukawa didn't answer but moved, too fast for Sendoh to follow, leaping at Sakuragi with one sweeping blast of his wings. Sendoh could only suck in his breath. With every pass, every lightning exchange of tortured steel, his anxiety rose to a fever. He clenched his fists and felt his heart twist in his chest.

Everything tilted on a knife edge in those deadly quick exchanges. The smallest mistake... the smallest error... and everything could fall apart.

 _Please let him be safe._

 _Please, please just let him be safe._

The two adversaries ricochetted apart almost as soon as they connected. Rukawa was sent hurtling backwards through the air under the force of Sakuragi's swing, snapping his brilliant white wings out to slow his motion. Sakuragi, less elegant, crashed heavily against the trunk behind him. He lifted his hand to grip his upper arm tightly with a snarl. This time blood dripped out from between his fingers and his eyes darkened to a sunset red.

Sendoh took in the sight of the wound uncertainly. The black liquid that dripped silently from Sakuragi's fingertips. Afraid to even think what it might mean.

A spark of hope seemed to ignite in his gut. Until this moment he had only been forcing himself to believe - telling himself to trust in Kaede because there had been no other choice. But deep down he'd always been afraid to allow himself to hope.

But _Akira_ had landed true. Sakuragi bled while Kaede was unharmed. Was it possible? That Kaede was stronger? That Kaede could actually... win? It seemed dangerous and reckless to even think it.

Kaede did not waste time savouring his upper hand. He hit a tree feet first, bending to a crouch before propelling himself back towards Sakuragi.

Irritation flickered over Sakuragi's face at Rukawa's persistence. Before Rukawa had time to reach him he had already lifted his sword in one hand and swung it from a distance.

Sendoh's eyes saw the moment in time when Kaede changed direction. It must have been a very near miss because he tripped and practically rolled aside, abandoning his pass as Sakuragi's attack snapped right by his ear. He dug _Akira_ into the ground like an anchor as his speed threatened to carry him away, sliding several feet across the grass before he stopped and looked up at the demon in confusion.

Sakuragi was still standing by the distant tree pressing hard upon his bleeding arm. His feet had not moved, and yet his attack had stretched nearly the full length of the grass. Far further than his blade should have been able to reach. And the reason for that was that the heavy iron greatsword in his hands was gone, and instead Sakuragi held a coiled black whip.

For a moment Sendoh could make no sense of it.

Sakuragi smirked, his red eyes slowly diffusing to brown. "You won't beat me in speed," he boasted.

The sword had _changed_ , Sendoh realised finally. _Skipjack_ wasn't gone at all. It was still there, in Sakuragi's hand. The whip.

Rukawa's face too showed his surprise. Not even Kaede had known, it seemed, that _Skipjack_ could change shape in much the way Sakuragi could.

Sendoh's heavy sense of misgiving returned. What number of tricks did Sakuragi have up his sleeve? Was it naive to assume they'd even began to brush against the limits of his strength?

Sakuragi raised the whip again, bringing a strange dancing life into the black coils of steel as if it were a living thing, and with one wide swing he sent it snapping towards Kaede.

It whistled through the air with a noise like claws on flint.

Too late to dodge, Kaede took the brunt of the blow on the edge of his sword, but even with two hands on the hilt the force sent him backwards, his feet sliding helplessly across the ground. As the whip recoiled, he set his feet and flexed his wings in expectation of the next swing. But Sakuragi only took his time reeling the whip back into his hand, the same infernal arrogance written into his smirk.

"Tell me," Sakuragi said. "Are you still drawing on the magic to maintain that form, or is this shape a permanent one?" His eyes took on a malicious gleam. "What will happen when I eliminate the source of your power?"

For a moment Sendoh wasn't sure what he meant. Then Sakuragi's eyes turned towards the house.

He lifted the whip in Sendoh's direction and Sendoh felt his heart stutter in his chest.

How strange, that despite the cold and blinding panic which seized him then, he should notice odd things with such clarity. Like the fact that _Skipjack_ was no longer a whip. He saw with some wildly misplaced fascination that the black weaponhad changed again in the blink of an eye, and Sakuragi now held a horned longbow, ebony black, almost as tall as the demon himself, with curled goat-horn tips and a black arrow set with black swan feathers that pointed straight towards Sendoh's heart.

Sendoh swallowed pure fear, tasting his miserable whimper of distress. He tugged at his binds, some deep rooted instinct telling him to dodge aside. But it was futile. He could not move at all.

The arrow loosed.

It was a heartbeat of time. Just one. The pulse of blood in Sendoh's ears throbbed only once. A rapid disjointed terror that rose around the speeding shaft like a scream.

His frantic mind recalled the time Kaede had saved him from Minami's sword. How his senses had spun so fast but his body had been unable to react. That unexpected sound, the snap of Kaede's horrendous wings, and the sword that had never reached him. But this time, Sendoh did not even have time enough to close his eyes.

But Kaede moved fast.

He slammed _Akira_ into the ground with a swing like an axe, and under the sword's blow the earth parted in a long fissure. The wheel turning under Sendoh's knees slowed to a crawl as the sword lit up brightly, drawing upon whatever power remained. The demon arrow slammed into a wall of earth and debris that lifted from the ground like a shield in front of Sendoh, and there it shattered away into nothing.

The earth and stones fell back down to the floor with a sound like rain.

"I see," Sakuragi said in a low, dangerous voice. His eyes had narrowed, fixed on the sword in Kaede's hand. "I had forgotten how _irritating_ the watchers could be."

Sendoh took in a rough, startled breath. He had almost forgotten that the magic in the sword was meant for his protection. That he was, perhaps, the key to Rukawa's victory. Or, seen another way, his achilles heel. He was both Kaede's strength, and his greatest weakness.

Sakuragi slowly lowered the longbow, which melded immediately back to the form of a greatsword. "It's been a long time," Sakuragi admitted, "since I've needed to use _Skipjack's_ many forms." He gave a loose smile and considered the black sword. "I like the greatsword best. It suits me, don't you think? But where's the fun in being restricted?" He held the sword out before him in two hands, dug his fingers into the handle, and physically pulled it apart.

Sendoh saw the solid black steel part down the middle, running liquid for a moment as if it had melted under Sakuragi's strength. It then reformed itself instantly as two separate swords. Twin black katanas which Sakuragi held out, one in each hand.

"Come then," he said to Kaede, the long braid of his hair twisting with his motion. His wings lifted and flexed ominously, arching to their peak, charcoal black and swirling ash. Sendoh was reminded just how large and powerful Sakuragi was. The great demon's lips turned upwards, the sharp glint of his canines pressing against his lips. "Let's make it _rain_ blood," he declared with a venomous smile.

Then he vanished from Sendoh's sight.

His attack came with such speed that Kaede was forced into a hurried defence, his eyes flashing right and left, struggling to follow the paths of both blades at once. He had to cope with far greater complexity than before, and all at a speed that Sendoh could not even see. Not to mention the fact, as Sendoh knew well enough, that one sword did not block two.

One black blade caught a shallow nook on Rukawa's thigh before he could avoid it, silver blood seeping onto his kimono. The other stabbed forward in a concentrated thrust, aiming to pierce the muscle of his shoulder, and Rukawa had no choice but to retreat. He leapt back with a swift beat of his pearl wings, landing lightly, putting a cautious distance between himself and Sakuragi's twin blades, eyeing Sakuragi warily.

Sakuragi gave a mocking snort. "You never were the swordsman Mittchi was," he cracked his neck ominously. "Always second best."

Rukawa ignored the taunt, bending for a brief moment to grip the wound on his thigh.

"You've made a serious mistake, appearing before me in that form Kaede..." Sakuragi continued, squaring himself to where Kaede remained at a distance. "There's no one who can take you back from me this time. Mittchi is just a shadow of what he once was. Kiminobu doesn't have the guts or the resolve. Do you know what I'm going to do to you?" He gestured in a dramatic sweep of his arms, "I'm going to nail you to my wall," he purred, his eyes full of a terrible anticipation. "Right opposite my throne. With a ball between your teeth and a blindfold over your eyes, and your broken wings spread wide." He parted his palms to demonstrate. "I'll pin you there for everyone to see. My rare little butterfly." He licked his lips. "Everyone who sees you hanging there naked and bleeding will _know_. The story of _The Third_. Who you are. What you are. That _you_ \- _are – mine._ " His final words came out with a snarl, punctuated by the flare of heat around his feet, blackening the grass.

Sendoh felt the threats run over him like hot fingers, pouring into his mind, pooling around his fears like lava, paralysing.

But Kaede only straightened, giving a short impatient tut, and raised his sword once again. He did not seem afraid. Sendoh could not understand how Sakuragi's terrible words could have so little effect on him.

 _It is because he has always known,_ he realised with sudden clarity. _He has always known the price of his failure._

 _He has carried this weight all along._

He found himself staring intently at Rukawa. Seeing him anew, all over again. How strong he was. How beautiful. How sad.

He could recall the cool smoothness of his small hand as he'd gripped Sendoh's while they ran from the burning tavern. The intensity of his eyes in the light of the temple kitchen fire. His beauty reflected in the rippled surface of the bath water. His head thrown back against Sendoh's pillow. And then the darkness that always came over him whenever his thoughts had turned to Sakuragi.

 _Kaede-_

"Do you really think you can survive another pass?" Sakuragi's amused taunt interrupted Sendoh's swirling thoughts, causing him to look up again. "Butterfly?"

Kaede only narrowed his eyes, flexing his white wings. Every inch of him thrummed with strength and speed, but still all Sendoh could see was his smallness next to Sakuragi's power. His lightness compared to Sakuragi's strength. His gentleness against Sakuragi's violence.

The demon had been born to his nature. The rage and hate and heat beat through his veins and pulsed in his black heart. Killing came to him like breathing.

But the angel? No. He had been innocent. He had been forced to fight not from instinct but out of a desperate necessity. Beautiful creature who had never been meant to harm a single living thing. Fighting against himself and his own nature just as much as against the foe that stood before him.

Sendoh recalled his words then – _I feel like I'm destroying myself. Every time I kill I'm sure I lose something. Some part of me-_

It shouldn't be this way. It should never have-

Sendoh bit down hard on his lip, interrupting his own thoughts. What was the point of lamenting the unfairness of fate when reality stood before them?

 _Don't think like that. He is strong. He can win. He can win._ He tried to believe it, but his stomach felt loose with fear.

Sakuragi moved suddenly, bursting forward at ferocious speed, bringing his swords at a wide angle, the hardest attack for Rukawa to block. Rukawa dropped downwards, evading the strike, one hand on the floor to steady himself as Sakuragi's swords passed over his head. But Sakuragi's wings shifted as he anticipated Rukawa's direction, his left hand changing direction in that moment and slicing quickly downwards. Rukawa brought up _Akira_ to block the attack _,_ somehow managing to protect himself as Sakuragi passed. But Sakuragi still had his right hand free, and the second sword came not straight down but from Rukawa's blind side in an arc. A flicker of malicious victory flashed in Sakuragi's violet eyes.

Sendoh did not have time to gasp Kaede's name, but he felt the terror flood through him. A terrible ringing fear seizing up his veins as he saw the disaster about to happen.

But in that second of twisting his body, Rukawa reached out with his left hand as if his palm could block Sakuragi's sword, and his lips... moved.

Sendoh neither heard what he said nor saw what he did, but he felt it. A pulse of energy. Something that passed right through him, into him. Touching something that reverberated in the cavern of his chest.

A... miracle? For a moment he did not know what else it could be.

It was there, he realised in astonishment. The sound, the cadence. Something in Rukawa's unheard voice. The hum. It passed right through him as if Rukawa was speaking directly to his heart. A tune, a song. Something he'd strained for his entire life, but never quite caught with his ears until he'd put his head against Rukawa's chest and heard it in his heartbeat.

" _Innocence_..?" Sendoh realised in astonishment as the sound pierced him, set his muscles trembling as if he would rise to meet Rukawa's voice.

 _This is it,_ Sendoh realised. _I can hear it so clearly I…_

His eyes widened, something jumping in his chest.

He'd never heard it so perfectly than at that moment. It moved around him, resplendent in light.

And then he _knew_. The truth. Like some great gear finally slotting into its place. The truth. The winding string of history twisting its a long and bloody trail. And everything connected.

He saw Rukawa's eyes shrouded in his hood. The sword. How Rukawa had pulled him from that burning house and pressed the sword into his small hands. Led him to Anzai's tavern and set his feet upon the only path he'd ever walked. The path that led to this moment.

Sendoh gasped. He knew it even before he saw _Innocence_ shimmer in the long grass and come into Rukawa's hand like she was flying home.

Rukawa's long fingers closed around the hilt, finding their way into the familiar leather, gripping tightly, reaching back into the past. He stabbed upwards ferociously in that one motion, plunging _Innocence_ deep into Sakuragi's side, making use of Sakuragi's own downward motion to force her through his defense.

No, Sendoh realised. This was no miracle. It was the demon lord walking blindly into the trap Rukawa had laid sixteen years before.

Sakuragi let out an awful screech that grated in Sendoh's ears like nails, his body lurching away, _Innocence_ tearing a chunk out of his side.

Rukawa, unbalanced, hit the ground hard and rolled away, somehow maintaining his grip on the two swords, holding them close across his chest.

He rolled to a bumpy stop and was on his feet at once, one sword in each hand, his wings outstretched wide. Perfection.

He rushed back towards the wounded Sakuragi without pause. Without mercy. His eyes focused on nothing but the hole in Sakuragi's defense.

Sakuragi staggered, clutching his side. His shape flickered and blurred. A wolf. A snake. A dragon. Wounded. "That _sword_ ," he snarled, the whites of his eyes showing bright. Fighting to recover his balance, to hold his form, struggling to raise _Skipjack_ , his eyes blazing hot so that the grass around his feet curled and blackened in a great circle of his anger, "You _gave_ him your sword!"

Rukawa rushed in upon him without mercy, his eyes cold and hard, his wings a whirl of terror.

The breath seemed to have solidified in Sendoh's chest.

 _Innocence_ was the sword of the Third. He'd always known it, somewhere. Deep down. It hadn't made sense to him but it had always been true.

Three swords for three apprentices. Hadn't Mitsui told him on the very first day?

 _Vengeance. Mercy. Innocence._

Why hadn't he realised?

Sendoh's heart clenched.

 _...my whole life. Every day since the first day..._

 _...was Kaede there?_

 _Protecting me?_

All those near misses and the unnatural good luck that had followed Sendoh throughout his life suddenly made it seem so obvious.

Kaede had saved him the day his parents died. Kaede had protected him every day since. And every moment of pain that had been reflected along Innocence's blade, had been reflected in Kaede's eyes just the same.

And now…

For the first time Sendoh knew he was seeing Rukawa's full most power. His full supernal strength.

"Go-" he whispered, prayed, squeezing his eyes closed. _Go. Now. Now. Now!_

 _Innocence_ split the air like thunder, fast and light, but it was the brilliance crackling down _Akira's_ blade that gave Kaede speed beyond all nature and logic.

Combined, the slayer, the watcher, and the angel, Kaede _leapt_ , his terrible eyes filled with a terrible vengeance, fixed upon the struggling demon before him.

The two swords formed a cross with Sakuragi's neck vulnerable right between them. Rukawa narrowed his eyes and snapped his arms wide, the swords slicing over one another like scissors closing upon Sakuragi's life.

Sakuragi's hand jumped up to his chest, wide-eyed, pressing flat against his heart as if in astonishment.

Then, the house exploded.

Sendoh felt the force of wind slam into his back like a gale.

The world went white, then black. The air... turned... heavy. Thick and slow. Weighing them down. Sendoh blinked but could see nothing.

The space was filled with a terrible buzzing that scratched its way into Sendoh's mind like a thousand furious insects, and _Innocence's_ song was swallowed up in the blistering static.

Everything... slowed.

Then, stopped.

The two swords slicked into Sakuragi's skin, breaking through a thin layer, drawing tiny bulbs of black blood. And there was Sakuragi's dark smile. And flat under his palm, the keys that hung around his neck.

 _No-_ Sendoh screamed in silence. His mouth moving in a world devoid of sound.

Kaede- _Kaede!_

But it was too late.

Out of the gate a twisted dark vine struck out and speared its way through the very centre of Rukawa's beautiful wings like a harpoon.

Feathers lifted and scattered like dust.

Silence.

Caught in the stillness, Kaede's eyes went wide. The world was frozen. Nothing moved.

And then the gate _pulsed_.

Rukawa took the full force of the gate's energy and was flung the full length of the grass, smashing into a tree, the swords scattering from his hands. He hit the ground hard.

The world seemed to rush back in the void around them. Colour. Sound. Time.

Sakuragi remained still, the twin blades had already reformed into one that he held loosely in his hand. He brought up his fingers to feel the shallow cuts on either side of his neck, smearing the black blood over his skin under his thumb.

"Oh," he breathed. " _Oh_. That was _close_."

The gate yawned behind Sendoh, quieting, settling. The violent buzzing faded.

Blood dripped from Sendoh's ears. Every inch of him felt like it had been compressed. Every part of his body crushed under the warping fabric of the gate.

But now it was worse. Because there was an eerie silence. Emptiness. His panicked breathing and wild heartbeat. And the silence.

The sound of Kaede's defeat.

Sendoh stared in disbelief.

 _No…_

A cruel ripple twisted in Sakuragi's low chuckle.

 _The gate_. How had they forgotten the gate? Sakuragi's greatest power had never been in his sword or his strength, but in the keys he wore around his neck.

The demon was laughing now and his eyes were green, his hair long and loose in a cascade of red fire down his back, victorious.

He walked towards Rukawa's crumpled body with slow steps and Sendoh felt the vomit of terror rise in his throat.

"The first time I had you, you were nothing," Sakuragi began, his sandals quiet on the blackened grass. "But look at you now. You are strong enough to contend with me. Perhaps, all things being equal, you might even have won." He reached Rukawa and kicked him roughly onto his back. "But this was never a fair fight. You were never going to win, Kaede."

Rukawa winced, tried to roll over, to get up, but it was clear he was dazed. He had hit his head hard, and silver blood was splattered across the floor around him, and smeared all the way down the trunk of the tree he had hit.

Sakuragi smirked, and stepped deliberately onto one of Rukawa's wings, making him moan weakly. He bent to examine the damage. A hole, nearly a foot across, had been punched straight through the centre of each wing. All blood and feathers. Smearing silver across the floor. Ruined.

"I didn't want to do damage like this," Sakuragi lamented. "But knowing your strength now, perhaps it's for the best."

He reached out to idly sooth some of the ruffled and broken feathers, as if doing so might fix the horrendous wound. Then he casually gripped the bone at the top of the wing and pulled it upwards against the weight of his foot until it snapped.

The sound of that bone breaking cut its way into Sendoh like a knife.

This couldn't be happening. This wasn't right. This-

Rukawa arched and twisted as the pain broke him out of his concussion, a cry rising on his lips, his eyes widening with shock. Sakuragi dropped the broken wing carelessly, and it fell limp, with a sickening bent upon the ground. Rukawa moved weakly, clutching desperately at the grass, still fighting to rise, gasping through the pain.

"Beautiful..." Sakuragi observed, and dropped to his knees, straddling Rukawa's chest. "Look at that pain. I could watch you forever..." he leaned forward and twisted his fingers tightly into Rukawa's hair, pulling his head back to better admire the expression of agony on his face. "What am I saying?" he chided himself with a smirk, "I _will_."

 _No, no, no!_ Sendoh was screaming in his mind. He had been so close. So close-

Sakuragi released Rukawa's hair and with one hand on his neck shoved him hard back against the floor until he choked. Then he grasped his wrists, forcing them up together above his head against the ground, leaving him prone. Rukawa twisted and kicked beneath him, but he had no strength against Sakuragi.

"Stay still, butterfly," Sakuragi smirked. He reached again for _Skipjack_ , except now, Sendoh saw, it was a sharpened spear, long and thin with a jagged razor-sharp point.

His eyes dancing with delight, Sakuragi lifted the spear high, and then stabbed the point down, straight through the centre of Rukawa's palms. The weapon went deep into the ground below.

Silver blood flooded from Rukawa's impaled hands and he gave a gasp and a cry that ended when Sakuragi placed his hands around his throat and squeezed tightly until he was silenced.

Then Sakuragi sat up and looked down on him with an affectionate smile as Rukawa twitched and shuddered with the pain. "You don't know how long I've wanted this..." his hands trailed down Rukawa's trembling chest and began to play with the obi at his waist. "Savour this," he instructed. "Because these are the last clothes you'll ever wear."

He sliced the obi apart with one long claw.

Rukawa hiccupped fearfully, his eyes moving unfocused as Sakuragi ran his razor-sharp nails up over his throat and over his lips.

"Oh-" Sakuragi crooned quietly. "The things I am going to _do_ to you…"

Rukawa could do nothing but tremble beneath him.

Sendoh felt something inside him die.

He sagged in his binds, his head dropping. He did not think he could watch. But he hated himself for looking away. If Sakuragi was going to rape Kaede, was he so selfish as to wish he didn't have to see? Was it selfish to hope that it would happen beyond his sight and beyond his hearing? That that would somehow be _better?_

He forced himself to crack open one eye, only to see Sakuragi's long claws slide lovingly around Kaede's throat and squeeze softly, his eyes shining gold.

"Hanamichi-" Kaede managed to gasp weakly around Sakuragi's tight grip.

"Yes, my love?" Sakuragi bent down tenderly, brushing the tip of his nose affectionately against Kaede's, his thin snake-like tongue flickering out against Kaede's lips. Kaede took a rough and desperate drag of air.

"Let him go," he rasped.

Sendoh froze cold.

Sakuragi smiled at him for a moment before straightening up again, his knees digging hard into his wings to hold him down. He turned his head in amusement to consider Sendoh.

"Ah yes," he replied as if just remembering. "I was hoping that you would beg. Do not disappoint me now my sweet. What-" he let his claws run affectionately over Rukawa's cheek, scoring three fine cuts into his skin. "-what would you pay? In exchange for one mortal life?"

 _No, Kaede-_ Sendoh felt a spark of fury twist up his throat, but he could do nothing. Could not save him from this situation nor force Sakuragi's wicked hands away from his neck or remove the terrible spear through his hands nor fix his broken wings. He could do nothing. Say nothing. Worthless.

"Anything," Rukawa whispered back.

Sakuragi tightened his grip on Rukawa's neck even as Sendoh clenched his fists hard in his binds, feeling his smashed finger flare with pain but not caring. What did it matter now?

A thin noise of pain escaped Rukawa's crushed throat.

"You can do better than that. Tell me what I want to hear. Go on."

Rukawa's eyes were wide, gazing up at Sakuragi. Sendoh knew that look. The mindless confusion and panic. The pain and weakness. Unable to think, to reason, to do anything at all.

"I- I- ugh-" he winced in pain. "Hanamichi- please…"

"Would you give me your body?" Sakuragi pressed him.

"Yes," Rukawa agreed without hesitation.

"Would you give me your obedience? Your loyalty? Would you take me as your lover? Would you offer yourself to me wholly and completely?"

"Yes."

"Then say so!"

He slackened his grip just slightly so Rukawa could manage a full breath.

"Go on, my love. _Beg_."

"I..." a tremor ran through Rukawa's body. "Hanamichi- I... I'll give you... my body... my... loyalty my-" he was cut short when Sakuragi pressed abruptly down on his throat once again, shutting off his air tightly.

"That's cute. But tell me this. Can you give me your _love_?"

Rukawa could only stare up at him, his mouth forced open wide in the struggle to breathe.

"You see, there's really nothing you can offer me that I can't take for myself. But that... _that_ , well, wouldn't that be something? To say that you love me. I would pay much more than the boy if you were to love me. What do you think? Would you promise to love me?"

Rukawa gave a small nod of his head, his eyes wide and pleading.

Sakuragi smiled and leaned down as if to kiss him. But he stopped just short of Rukawa's lips, his smile dissolving.

"But we both know," he hissed, his voice turning fierce and his eyes blazing red, "that you would be _lying_."

Rukawa could only stare up at him in despair.

"I've never demanded your love," Sakuragi continued, close to Rukawa's face, hunkered over him as if crooning over some precious object in his hands. "I've always been satisfied with your hate. You could never love me. I know that." He took a breath. "But do you think you can treat me as something _irrelevant_? You think you can give yourself away as if I didn't already _own_ you? As if I were nothing to you? Do you really have the audacity to believe that you can _ignore_ me? Feel _indifferently_ about me? Treat me as some kind of _inconvenience?_ "

His hot mouth blasted his words like scalding steam onto Rukawa's cheeks, his speech becoming more angry by the word.

"You belong to me," he hissed at him, giving him a frustrated shake. "You're _mine_. I loved you first. I've made you everything that you are. And I've never wanted more. I would have been satisfied with your hate forever. But _\- you_ _c_ hanged everything! Do you really care for him so much you would _offer_ yourself to me? Do you have any idea how _angry_ that makes me?! How can you love him more than you hate me? _"_

He paused with another breath, his chest expanding, his shoulders lifting. Then he let the air go, and his furious expression melted into a sad smile, eyes fading to honey brown, his hair falling in a long curtain around his face.

"But it's okay," he whispered, turning to a consoling tone. "It's simple, isn't it? All I have to do is… _take_ him from you. Just one click of my fingers, and I'll have all your hate, Kaede. You'll be all mine again." He lifted his hand towards Sendoh, his fingers tensed together, and immediately Sendoh recalled the way Aida had dissolved into ash and dust at the simple motion of those hellish fingers. "Watch carefully my dear."

"No..." Rukawa pleaded, desperate, "Hanamichi- please- I... I…"

"Ah, yes. Wait," Sakuragi paused for a long moment and smiled. "I did make a _promise_ to you, didn't I?" His expression had changed now to one of childish delight. A boy playing with his toys. His eyes had become a most brilliant orange, sparkling like the sun, clearly enjoying nothing quite so much as having Kaede helpless and begging beneath him, wholly within his power. Smiling to himself, Sakuragi reached out far to the side and picked up _Akira_ from where it had fallen from Kaede's hand. The steel remained grey and dull as Sakuragi lifted it and admired it for a moment.

"Perfect," he whispered. "This is exactly what I need." He rose slowly to his feet, swinging the sword side to side as if testing it against the air. He lifted his eyes to Sendoh and gave a cruel smile.

"Your heart, mortal."

With a last desperate gasp, Rukawa tried to find the breath to call _Innocence_ back to him, but even as he did so, Sakuragi lifted one foot and brought in down hard on his neck. Rukawa's body jerked violently in response, his voice gone.

"No, no," Sakuragi chided him. "None of that now. This is inevitable. Surely you can understand that." He raised his voice to address Sendoh. "Are you ready, mortal? I'll pull your heart out nice and slow. You might even hear the veins snapping... if you don't scream too loudly." He licked his lips. "Don't worry. I'll make sure to keep you alive for as long as I can."

Sendoh forced himself to breathe. The binds that held him just as tight as before. The reality so concentrated he could taste it in his mouth.

He didn't want Kaede to see this. Didn't want him to remember him in this way. _Dying_ in this way.

 _I've wanted to die for so long,_ he reflected. _But not like this. Please... not like this._

Kaede had asked only one thing of him - stay alive. He had done so. He had fulfilled his role. But it hadn't been enough. What else did he have left to give?

He lifted his eyes to see Sakuragi standing there, huge and menacing and without mercy. And behind him, Kaede. Horribly broken. Struggling even to breathe.

And this was defeat. Final. Absolute.

Despite the awful death Sakuragi intended for him, Sendoh realised it was an easy way out compared to Kaede's fate.

Because Kaede would be Sakuragi's plaything. Sakuragi's prisoner and slave. Sakuragi's to possess and break and torture. Today. And all the days that would follow. Perhaps forever. Had it always been so? Was this truly the only outcome that there had ever been?

Was this their story?

Kaede had begged him to stay alive. But Sendoh knew, and he had always known, that that was not his fate.

 _I will never have the opportunity to live for him._

 _I was always fated to die for him._

 _I'm not afraid of death. I am only afraid of dying meaninglessly._

He took a long steadying breath and realised that he knew what he must do.

"No," he managed to answer Sakuragi's question. His voice was shallow and weakened. "Not yet. You haven't... beaten me yet."

His arms and shoulders trembled as he looked across the way at him. He was fully aware of how pathetic he must appear. How terribly transparent his bravado must seem.

Sakuragi scoffed quietly. "Proud little mouse," he sneered. "We'll soon see how long you can keep up that brave face."

"I told you before," Sendoh asserted quietly. "I'm not afraid of you."

"Then you're a fool," Sakuragi hissed at him.

"I'm not... dead yet," Sendoh managed to gasp.

Sakuragi gave a visible roll of his eyes. "Then do your best, little boy," he smirked as he stepped Sendoh's way.

Sendoh's eyes moved to _Innocence_ where she lay by the tree, silver blood splattered on her hilt.

One chance. Right here. The smallest fluttering in his chest.

" _Innocence_..." he said, closed his eyes, and took a breath. He recalled the hours he'd spent trying to learn her ways, struggling to hear the sound of her song that was always somehow just beyond his grasp, coming to him only through Kaede's presence. He had never truly succeeded. Certainly he'd never even been close to bringing her to his hand. But that didn't seem to matter now. Because he could recall too that she had been at his side for sixteen long years. Every demon he'd ever slain, every practise swing, every trial and every challenge, every time he'd woken up in a gutter somewhere, she'd been there. Every moment of his life had been lived in her reflection.

And right now he could hear it. A perfect hum down at the very base of his hearing. Because Kaede had sung this song and something in him had awakened. He knew. He knew how to do it now. Kaede had showed him.

" _Innocence_ ," he repeated, angling the timbre of his voice downwards, seeking to catch that note, that perfect pitch that shook still now in the cavity of his chest where Kaede had placed it.

He heard the sword react to his voice. A delicate shiver running up her blade as she awoke to him. He could hear it, could feel it, like fingers up his own spine.

The words didn't matter, he recalled Rukawa telling him.

He focused his eyes sharply.

"Come," he demanded.

The sword began to glow.

Sakuragi made no move, only watching in amused curiosity to see what Sendoh intended to do.

She did not rush to him, but moved with a graceful slowness. Controlled. She hung vertical in the air, turning slowly as if on a string, the glow of her blade shining softly. She was beautiful, he saw, his eyes running over her. Flawless steel, ferociously sharp. This blade of heaven. The sword of The Third. He felt a rush of gratitude.

 _You and me,_ he told her silently. _We've both been wronged._

 _They forged you as a weapon. To kill. To slay. To rain blood. Your beauty never hid your darkness. You were always a sword. Always intended to suffer and to bring suffering. And for that they tempered you in the flames and sacrificed you to the darkness._

 _But they were wrong._

 _Killing was never your purpose._

 _Through everything you've suffered it didn't erase the truth._

 _You were forged not to slay, but to protect._

He let himself smile.

 _And so was I._

The sword began to move slowly around him in a circle, the song rising in a delicate harmony, humming and hovering precisely, responding to the heart that beat in his throat, to the sound of his breath, to the whispering trail of his thoughts. He felt that she was attached to his heart by a string. The slightest tug and he could move her as he willed. And as she circled him she brushed gently against each of his binds. They disintegrated into ash in her divine light. The darkness vanished into nothing.

He hit the floor hard as the binds dissolved, his body without any strength at all. But even then, the sword found his palm and pressed herself into it insistently. Familiar, soft leather. Old friend. Precious, reliable partner. He gripped it. The hum of the blade had movement, had a strength of its own. Though it seemed strange, it was as if the sword moved his arm, and not his exhausted arm that moved the sword. And yet he understood too that the sword only responded to him, and did not move of her own will but because of his.

Still, he felt as if she had a soul.

 _Thank you, old friend._

He somehow managed to scramble to his feet, and turn himself to face death straight on, glad to have her in his hand.

"I did not realise you were a master of that sword," Sakuragi observed with a dangerous quietness, watching suspiciously. He moved _Akira_ back and forththrough the air, feeling its weight, testing its balance. "But it will make no difference."

Sendoh did not react. Sakuragi's eyes were intense and focused. He was not playing around.

Sendoh took a quick breath.

Then before he knew it, before he was ready, Sakuragi flew at him.

He came in a terrible burst of speed that swallowed the distance between them in moments. Purposefully slow enough for Sendoh to follow with his eyes, but too fast for him to even consider dodging aside. Sendoh set his feet firmly.

 _All right. Come on. Come on._

It didn't matter the cost. At that moment he had no intention beyond saving Kaede from the appalling fate Sakuragi intended for him. That was all. For Kaede. If only he could protect Kaede, any price was worthwhile.

 _I must._

He adjusted his grip on _Innocence_ slightly. Sakuragi's wings gave a thunderous snap, slamming down against the air to give him more speed. He was an utterly terrifying sight, filling Sendoh's vision, sword raised in readiness to strike.

Sendoh held _Innocence_ loosely across his body. He recalled Mitsui's words suddenly, said right here on the open grass. He could hear his voice as clearly as if he were standing right beside him. "You don't have a hope in hell of blocking anything."

 _Yeah_ , Sendoh thought. _I know that. He's too fast. Too strong. He outclasses me in every possible way._

"You'd better focus on attacking... you might get lucky."

Luck? No. That had run out long ago.

 _I cannot hope to overcome this enemy with force, with skill, or with strength. I have only one advantage - the very fact that I am so weak._

He gripped _Innocence_ tightly and felt the song rise up in his head and in his lungs, louder and louder, until it was a positive catastrophe of sound.

Then he took one last breath. Perhaps the final of his life.

 _I must wait._

 _Akira_ was traveling like a lightning bolt, point-first, making the air scream around its tip as it trust forward ready to pierce his chest and skewer his heart.

 _Wait._

Kogure's lessons were dim in the back of his mind. He had to feel it. Stumble his way into the harmony that sounded now like chaos around him. Bring his mind around to the song. Let it take him over. Let everything else cease to exist.

He caught hold of it.

The world around him seemed to slow, contract, turn tiny and concentrated. He couldn't see anything but that steel tip drawing closer as Sakuragi thrust it forward towards his heart in a lightning quick stab.

 _Innocence_ slanted defensively before him, ready to engage, to parry, to block the deadly blow.

But then the song changed. Rukawa must have heard it change as Sendoh's grip loosened slightly and _Innocence_ dipped lower. Perhaps he was nervous. Perhaps he was simply exhausted. But Sakuragi saw his error and his eyes shone.

Sendoh forced himself to wait.

 _Akira_ shimmered through his defense, taking easy advantage of his mistake, its path clear of barriers. All at once it was there, far too soon, too fast, dangerous and deadly and pressing forward to take him.

It brushed his clothes.

 _Wait._

The fibres gave way before the sharp steel, parting silently to allow the sword tip to touch his skin.

 _Wait._

For a fraction of a moment he felt _Akira's_ coldness, but the next his skin was punctured. It was no armour, no barrier at all. The sword drifted between his ribs. Sakuragi was nothing if not accurate. No bone blocked the blade's path, or slowed the vicious stab.

 _I am not afraid to die._

The muscles of his chest gave way without any resistance at all, allowing the blade through. It caught the inner edge of a lung, pressing ever forward to the centre of him.

 _Wait. Still wait._

 _Not yet._

 _Not until the last moment._

He was already dead. He knew that. But the timing. The timing was everything. One miserable mortal life in exchange for so much.

"He's not asking you to die for him." Mitsui reminded him.

"Isn't he?" Sendoh answered back.

He felt a strange satisfaction. He had always known. He had always expected to pay this price.

Finally the cold blue light of the sword tickled the frantic muscle of his heart. It was swollen, mid-beat, hot and living. The centre of him. The very point of his existence. The place where his love for Kaede had accumulated.

 _Ah-_

The world had ground to a stop around him. Sakuragi's intense expression so close by. His smirk. His eyes fixed and determined and totally focused on the perfect path the sword was making.

And beyond him... _Kaede_.

Sendoh felt something hurt deep inside to see his intense desperation. The wide fear in his eyes, the terror and the agony of his defeat. Knowing that he had to watch Sendoh die.

 _It's okay_ , Akira wanted him to know. _I'm not afraid._

 _My whole life has been for this moment. I guess destiny has a funny way of seeing itself through._

 _Sixteen years ago you chose me for this._

 _And so this is my gift to you._

Slowly, millimetre by millimetre, the sword entered his heart. He could feel it. Cold. So cold. Kaede's love and very sword that embodied the many long years of his protection touching the very centre of him. It was enough to make him smile.

He could sense Sakuragi's radiating satisfaction. The smell of his victory. The seeping pungency of his arrogance as he passed the point beyond which there was no going back. Not for Sendoh Akira. Not for Sakuragi, either.

 _Now._

In the last moment of his life Sendoh brought _Innocence_ up with everything he had. Lightning fast, well beyond his mortal limits, as if he had thrust every last piece of his soul into the blade and she screamed with the sound of that song. Every facet of his life and his being. Anything he was worth he forced it all into that one motion, _Innocence_ guiding his aim.

He felt his arm break with the impact as the sword caught Sakuragi across the chest, sweeping up through his torso in a great explosion of violence, the divine blade cracking through ribs and flesh and hell itself, catching at last the chain about Sakuragi's neck, the silver links dragging on the point of the sword until it snapped, and the five silver keys caught the sunlight as they fell to the floor with a sound like bells.

But, the tip of _Akira_ continued onwards. Nothing could have stopped her, slicing through him, cutting her way out of Sendoh's back to stick hard, point first into the post, and pin him there, the blade vibrating gently. A perfect path through the centre of his heart. One life in exchange for another.

Sendoh slumped forward over the sword, his broken arm dangling, lifeless.

Everything he'd had, he had paid.

Sakuragi lurched backwards, blood pouring from his open chest, scrabbling at the horrific wound with two blackened bloodied hands, his face showing his disbelief.

"No..." he breathed, "... how...?"

The mighty demon staggered, his great body failing him, his wings flickered in and out of sight as he weakened, unable to maintain his form.

With a broken cry, Kaede forced himself through the pain, clenching his ruined hands around the shaft that impaled them, slippery with blood, and breathless with the agony, tugged hard once, twice, three times until it came free of the ground. The black blade fell away in a rush of blood.

He took a breath that was more tears than air.

But despite the pain, he moved. He had to. Sendoh's sacrifice couldn't be in vain. He couldn't let Sakuragi escape. He had to kill him. Now. This one precious chance for which Akira had given his life.

Now. Now. _Now_.

His hands clenched weakly around _Skipjack's_ staff - the only weapon within his reach - agony exploding in his ruined hands.

But although he knew what he had to do, logic and sense and instinct screaming in his mind - strike him down! take your revenge! - he couldn't seem to move. He could barely see for the tears.

It hurt. It hurt more than anything Sakuragi had ever done to him. This pain. A thousand moments of revenge wouldn't have justified it.

 _A... Akira...?_

He felt small. Helpless. A frightened child. His dry lips taking the shape of his name, trembling too much to speak aloud.

 _Don't…_

 _Please…_

 _No…_

He could hardly bring himself to look.

Terrified, he forced his eyes to take in the sight Sendoh's lifeless body. A cry rose on his lips, long and heartbroken.

Heedless of Sakuragi dying nearby, Sendoh's body was all he could see.

He crawled towards him over the grass, shivering and crying, the sound of his pain a low wail in his throat.

 _How could this be?_

 _How had this happened?_

Rukawa's eyes roamed wildly over Sendoh's body in a haze of agonised disbelief.

 _We were meant to be together. I was meant to find a way. There had to be a way. I was going to find it and you... you were going to be beside me... forever._

 _Akira…_

 _Akira-_

A wretched sob broke past his lips.

It couldn't be true. It couldn't be.

Fujima's words taunted him. "Don't let that mortal die."

 _I- I- I- I can't lose you- I can't-_

 _No…_

He saw that Sendoh still had _Innocence_ grasped tightly in the fist of his limp broken arm. He hadn't dropped her. Every finger still clinging on to her hilt as if, even in death, he was desperate not to let her fall.

Then Rukawa's eyes fearfully took in the sword that protruded from his chest, still glowing faintly blue. It was a fatal blow. Not even an immortal would have survived it. Sendoh hadn't even tried to block it. He'd invited the sword, accepted death in exchange for that one moment in which he'd been within the circle of Sakuragi's defense. The meagre sliver of a second in which not even Sakuragi could have stopped his attack.

But what did that matter now?

Rukawa would have given his soul to Lucifer himself if it would have spared him this moment. He'd have given anything... _anything_... and yet…

A fresh rush of tears blinded him. Oh, God. It hurt. It hurt so much.

Through the tears, he could see the faint blue light of that accursed sword still shining her cold blue light.

Rukawa watched it despairingly, cursing the blade, the watchers, the heavens, anything, everything, himself most of all. He'd done this. _He'd done this._

But it was Sakuragi who seemed to understand. The significance of that blue light. Shining. Still.

He spoke in an angry hiss. "I should have known," he snarled, glaring at Sendoh's limp body furiously, "that that sword wouldn't cut you."

For a moment, nothing changed.

Then.

There was no blood, Rukawa suddenly realised with a terrified thrill.

There was... no... blood.

"Akira-!" he gasped.

Against all expectations, Sendoh lifted his head and gave an anxious groan.

Rukawa froze where he was, still on his hands and knees.

Sendoh's eyes drifted confusedly down and settled on the sword that should have killed him, faintly aglow with familiar pale blue light. He slowly lifted his left hand and lay it on the hilt, moving lethargically as if in a dream. With a wince he pulled it free of the post, and out of his chest.

There was no pain. No wound. His heart was beating still, unharmed. His lungs took eager breaths of air. _Akira_ glinted softly in his hand, icy cold and reassuring in his grip.

 _A sword that protects a mortal slayer, sharing one name, and a magic that can only be used in his defence._

I'm... alive, he realised vaguely.

He lifted his eyes to meet Kaede's astonished stare. Then he saw Sakuragi bleeding and writhing with pain on the ground, his face pale and angry, hopelessly wounded.

 _What was I doing-?_

 _Oh... yes._

 _Akira_ fell with a clatter from his shaking hands and he managed to stagger towards Kaede. His legs felt weak and numb, his whole body strange and disbelieving.

When he was close enough he slowly lifted his right arm, wincing with pain, and offered the hilt of _Innocence_ to Rukawa who stood and stared at him with wide eyes as if he didn't dare trust his own senses.

"This is yours," Sendoh managed to tell him, holding _Innocence_ out. "I... promised you... this moment."

But Rukawa did not take the sword from him. "No-" he whispered hoarsely. "It's your right. You do it."

Sendoh shook his head and offered the sword more insistently. Even if he had wanted to be the one to end Sakuragi's life, he didn't have anything left. He could barely stand upright. Rukawa seemed to realise this, but still he refused to take the sword.

Instead he stepped unsteadily away, his broken wing dragging against the ground. He clutched his wounded hands together protectively, nursing them as he walked until he reached the sword that had fallen and, wincing, picked it up again. _Akira's_ blue light returned, glowing silently, even as blood dripped silver from his hand.

"No-" Sakuragi growled, scrabbling against the ground, pushing himself across the dirt weakly in an attempt to get away. His eyes were fixed on _Akira_ with disgust. "Not that sword," he said. He lifted his eyes to Rukawa's face. "If you would slay me, then let me die by your hate. Not that- that-" his breathing was becoming laboured, his voice losing it's ambience. Rukawa began to approach him silently.

"Kaede, are you so cruel?" Sakuragi murmured in disbelief. His hand clutched anxiously at the horrific wound across his chest as if he could hold the gash closed. "Slay me with _Innocence_. Please. Give me your hate, your anger. Not... not that thing that you... share with- with- _him,_ " he took a rasping breath. "I... _love_ you," he pleaded. "Have some pity, Kaede. Kaede, _please_."

Rukawa stopped right before him, his sandals kicking up a little dust. He raised the sword in two bleeding hands.

For a fraction of a second he recalled Fujima's words.

 _He loves you. He is you. His existence is bound to you in a thousand ways. Slay him and live on to stare blindly into the emptiness of despair._

"Fuck you," he decided. "You deserve no pity."

He shifted his feet, and swung _Akira_. It passed like a ray of light through Sakuragi's neck. And Sakuragi Hanamichi did not speak again.

 **-tbc**

* * *

I know I said this would be the last chapter but I just don't have the energy to write the conclusion hahaha. So there'll be one more chapter to wrap it up and then a short epilogue. Since there's one more chapter I'll wait to post the song list for this fic until next time.

Give yourself 100 points if you guessed that Sendoh would defeat Sakuragi.  
Give yourself 200 points if you knew "the stranger" was Kaede all along.

Yeah! You made it! Congratulations!

Please tell me what you thought and whether you enjoyed it :D Seriously, I live for reviews.


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